


YYZ

by thedeadflag



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, F/F, Future Fic, Mild Language, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-19
Updated: 2015-02-19
Packaged: 2018-03-13 17:05:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 37,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3389522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedeadflag/pseuds/thedeadflag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nearly a decade out of high school, Santana's a struggling songwriter with a tendency to run. Rachel's a hard-luck Broadway hopeful that's hit a wall she can't seem to get past. Both know something's missing in their lives, and both are stuck in Toronto's Pearson Airport with two days until Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I got asked by my reader friend Ophalia to fit a blizzard into a story (though looking back, it may have been a joke :P ), and well…I was listening to music while reading their request and I got a little inspired. In case you don't know, YYZ is the airport code for Toronto's Lester B Pearson Airport. Coincidentally, it is also a title of a piece of music by the Canadian band 'Rush', who named it after the airport. I felt it was a fitting title for this fic, seeing as they're stuck there. 
> 
> I wrote this in July 2013, around when I was starting to watch Season 4, so it doesn't take into account much newer content from the show, just fyi.  
> I've read a bunch of post-education adulthood fics with pezberry, but those usually focus on families and a singer!Rachel exotic-dancer!Santana kind of thing. Which is totally cool, but I kind of wanted to do something a little less directly sexualized and just show what it could be like for them both if they've taken some hits over the years without a lot of success. Most of the show's major events up until season 4 are canon, but I obviously am taking some liberties with their backgrounds and futures and everything. Fair warning. Though admittedly, there will obviously be fluff. Because it's me.
> 
> Also, some of this fic was influenced in part by a song by The Wonder Years called "Passing Through A Screen Door". Think the acoustic version, though, given the only guitar present in the fic is acoustic. That's generally, with small alterations where necessary, what Santana's written in her notepad. I figured I'd let you all know in advance to avoid any confusion.
> 
> Other songs used/alluded to in this fic:  
> "To Love You More" by Celine Dion  
> "Waiting for the Sun to Rise" by Lightning Dust  
> "Lost Coastlines" by Okkervil River

There was cornflower etched glassware in the china cabinet, and Santana was certain the ceramic plates somehow matched that rural sort of elegance. There was wine on the dark marble kitchen counter, a pair of glasses her cousin would have brought over had she not left the room for a moment. There were a few pictures on the goldenrod yellow walls, brass star ornaments resting here and there. There was a small red ball shuffled off in the corner of the room where her nephew had kicked it earlier, its hue contrasting with the dark, rich hardwood beneath it. Nothing really matched, there were so many different things happening that really should have clashed, but it felt like a home nonetheless. It felt like two people who decided they were it, and took the next fork in the road together. Nothing matched, most of it didn't make sense, but that was life, wasn't it? Santana thought as much, but she honestly wasn't sure what she was seeing was what she wanted.

Sure, she knew she was supposed to want it; her relatives had all told her as much before shutting the door on her, frustrated at her for not settling down at the spinster age of twenty six. It was admittedly absurd, but normal was different for everyone, and that made everything rather complex. And when she'd asserted to her family for the one hundred and seventy third time that she was a lesbian, and yet again requested her family stop trying to set her up with men, her new normal was mostly radio silence from her previous support system. Her cousin was the only one left who'd even speak with her, and even she was starting to get on her case. As she heard the woman's footsteps near the kitchen, she fully predicted Eva would continue where she'd left off.

"I'm sorry for that, I had to put my boy to bed. Which of course led to a story, you know how it is." Eva noted, sounding breathlessly happy. Santana actually didn't know, because outside of Eva, the rest of her cousins were much older than her, and she'd had no siblings, so she hadn't had much opportunity to take care of kids. Her parents hadn't been the type to tell a story before bed either. Not that she didn't think it would have been a good idea in retrospect, and she thought her cousin was doing an awesome job, but she just didn't know. She wasn't sure what she was supposed to know at her age.

"Yeah, no worries Eva. You get Joel all up in Dr. Seuss for me, alright?" Santana said, trying her best to recall a children's book that would be appropriate to reference. Dr. Seuss seemed safe enough.

"I promise I'll get him back to those after the holidays, but for now it's all Christmas books until the play's over." Eva stated with a calm smile. "He's going to be such a cute shepherd, Santana."

Eva had changed since she'd given birth; she used to be even harder than Santana had been, even thornier. They used to always raise hell at family gatherings, and if they didn't make Uncle Lorenzo storm off at least once, it was an utter failure and a great shame on their dynamic partnership. So when she witnessed her cousin transform into this sappy, loving person that literally sighed from happiness all the time, it was a big shock. Not that she loved her cousin any less, it just wasn't something she understood entirely. It made her feel like all their years together, that she'd missed a big part of her favourite relative. Honestly, she was feeling like she'd probably been missing out on a lot in her life as of late.

"Well, I'm sure he will, but I don't think your attempts at stringing him into method acting will stick. Sorry." Santana joked, her cousin giving her an amused smirk as she brought the wine glasses over to the table and sat down. Santana was certain Joel would look adorable for sure, the kid was already a little heart-breaker. She knew the play would be kind of hilarious. They always were, but she could just imagine Joel lazily reciting the words. Not that he wasn't excited to perform, but he was definitely more excited about the cake his mother promised him for after it was all over. He had already confessed to her a few hours earlier that he didn't really care about his eight words. He cared more about chocolate than words. Smart kid. "Just record it for me, will you? I can't always make it out for every play, living in New York and all, even if I wish I could."

"Of course I will, you know I'll be front row with my video camera." Eva noted happily, taking a long sip of her wine.

"So what plans do you have for New…" she started, the opening door behind her interrupting her speech as Eva quickly placed her glass down, running over to embrace her husband.

Love. It was kind of surreal to even witness up close; the house was already filled with it, and the two people holding each other by the door made it all nearly overwhelming. She smiled, because it's not like she was some cold-hearted bitch, she just didn't understand a lot of shit. Like how two people get from point A, where she was, to point B, where Eva and Marc were. It wasn't something she'd ever been taught outside of in Disney movies and rom-coms, and even she knew those tactics never worked. Especially the ones relying on magic.

She felt a little guilty holding those mildly bitter thoughts in the proximity of one of her favourite people in the world, who was simply expressing her happiness. She knew Eva didn't deserve her bitterness just because she had something Santana didn't know how to get. Not that she hadn't felt some shreds of it in the past.

Brittany had been fresh, new and exciting, but looking back it was mostly lust mixed with a strong friendship that allowed moments of intimacy. It was wonderful but not that kind of love. She'd felt something a while later on with her former roommate, but she'd been straight, so Santana generally just fought those thoughts and didn't try for anything major. Even she knew love had to be reciprocated for it to be special or whatever. Or, well, for it to not be incredibly heartbreaking and shit, and she didn't want to feel that.

So she just sat there, listening to the nearly silent murmurs between the two people still standing by the door, smiling and staring googly-eyed at each other. It was disgustingly endearing in the best way, even if it made her feel like a total reject.

Eva was a systems analyst for some big company in Toronto, and generally got to work from home, letting her take care of Joel and avoid the whole nanny or daycare mess. Marc was a teacher, she was pretty sure it was just a bunch of math courses at a high school, and he'd just come back from a conference out of town. Both always knew what they were doing on Saturdays, it was their designated adventure/outing day. Santana had those, like, every day, but she supposed it wasn't the same since she wasn't exactly in the most stable life situation, and she generally lacked a set schedule. Her activities were much more mundane, usually involving handing out resumes or putting up posters or whatever. Eva and Marc would camp, skydive, go antique hunting, all the craziness and tame shit that didn't seem to go together, but it apparently worked for them. They had met in front of some claw machine at a carnival, and Eva had won Marc, who had apparently been struggling with it, the stuffed animal his girlfriend at the time had wanted. Because THAT was such a romantic, love-at-first-sight moment. Not that it had to be, and not that they ever said it had been. It turned out that love changed its game up from person to person, which Santana thought was bullshit.

"Santana?" her head shot up from her glass to Eva, who was giving her a curiously concerned look that she'd mastered back when she was fifteen. "Are you alright or do I get to finally perform a lobotomy on you?"

Santana shook her head, rolling her eyes at her cousin and her rather dark desire to lobotomize her that the girl had held since she was twelve. Twelve. Freaky shit. "It's nothing, I was just thinking."

And it was then that she knew she fell into the trap. She would have cursed out loud if she was sure Joel and Marc wouldn't hear. The kid for obvious reasons, and Marc because while he was always polite, he was never her biggest fan. Not that she was ever a troublemaker around him, but she carried a rep, and apparently that was enough. "You're twenty six, Santana. You should get back out there, start looking again." Her cousin started with a knowing smile, obviously trying to be reassuring, but Santana couldn't help but feel like it was a little smug. "Most girls your age have or are looking to get partners, kids…we're all made different, but we all want someone to come home to. Or someone to come home to us."

"I'm always out there and always looking, Eva, but it's not like that stuff just happens out of the blue. You don't just collect a freaking person, you have to fall in love and all that crap, and it's not exactly easy for everyone. I've been on at least a few hundred dates, and not one has ever made me feel like something could be there. So I'm sorry if I don't feel like trying anymore…it's frustrating, alright?" Santana ranted in a hushed tone; she knew her cousin probably didn't understand that maybe six percent of the women she encountered could ever have romantic feelings for her, be attracted to her, but she'd needed to say something.

"I know, but I just want you to be happy, San. You can't keep running away from every girl you meet just in case they end up like Brittany or don't live up to that other girl, or…they end badly. You're braver than that, San." Eva stated firmly, trying to give her tough love, it seemed.

Santana sighed, leaning back in her chair as she swirled her wine in her glass. "My parents separated when I was eight. My dad vanished, my mom was barely around, and my abuela disowned me when I came out. I don't exactly have the best role models when it comes to knowing how stable relationships work out, Eva." She retorted, downing the rest of her glass in one go.

"You don't learn it…you just, you know it already. You just need to find the right person, someone your heart feels deserving of one." Eva stated, and Santana could only shrug, because honestly, that was as far as the conversation could go. Eva could talk about what she experienced, and Santana would write it off because she'd never experienced it, and couldn't apply it to herself. They'd tried it in the past for hours, and it hadn't worked then, so it wouldn't at that kitchen table either. "Look, I have to get to bed, I have a lot of things to handle tomorrow morning."

"No, it's totally cool, Eva. I should probably get some sleep too, I have the early flight anyway." Santana noted with a shrug, Eva moving over to kiss her on the cheek, a wordless 'goodnight' as the woman left the room and ventured upstairs.

Santana knew that she was supposed to stay the night. That she was supposed to hold to their tradition and have breakfast together before she left, but she wasn't sure she'd be up for that. Santana wasn't sure she could live through another moon-eyed pep talk, no matter how short lived. And she knew Eva, it would likely be the last words out of her mouth as she left out the front door to drive to the airport.

She slept until it was safe to leave. Then she ran, like she always did.

* * *

 

Rachel knew she shouldn't have been up at four in the morning, but there she was, in a café, skyping with Kurt, who was in Paris at the moment. He'd been going on for weeks about whatever meeting he'd had planned, and what restaurants and museums he'd visit while he was there. It was nice to see one of her friends doing really well for themselves. Sure, she was a little bitter, but it was still good to hear. It meant her friend was happy, after all, and she cared about her friends. She just wished her hard work gave her even a fraction of that success.

"And so I got called into the conference room yesterday afternoon and Isabelle told me that I got handpicked to help co-manage BOTH fashion weeks in New York! I just…I can't believe it! Do you know how many parties I'll be able to host and frequent? How many celebrities I'll have access to? I could shop out my own collections to them, maybe!" Kurt exclaimed giddily on her computer screen; he was clearly over the moon about the news, but she felt like taking the out that was offered to her.

"How is your fashion line going anyway? You've been working on it for two years now, any luck?" she asked, hoping he wouldn't just detour back to the fashion week parties and everything. Kurt was a good friend in many ways; he listened well, he kept in contact, and he was generally nice. She just wished that with all the networking opportunities he had, he'd put her name out there even once. She'd seen pictures of him standing and talking with Patti LuPone, Elaine Page, and numerous Broadway producers, but he hadn't even made the attempt to throw her a bone. She understood a level of reluctance, but he'd broken through two and a half years ago, and was a pretty well known entity in the fashion world and around New York City. He had the ability to help, he just didn't. Even though when he asked, she'd helped him get back into NYADA.

Kurt nodded cheerfully, a conspiratorial smile gracing his face as he bit his lip. "I think it'll be ready for the fall show. I've taken some risks in utilizing some more uncommon fabrics and patterns, but I feel it could be both creatively competitive on the runway, and adaptable to department store racks." The man said excitedly, clearly proud of his work. She knew Kurt was diligent and meticulous, so she knew it would likely be a huge success.

"That's wonderful! You'll have to at least show me pictures of your designs when you're done, I'm sure they're all phenomenal." She spoke, wishing she had something to be so excited about. Fashion had always been Kurt's second choice, yet he caught a huge break almost right from the start; Rachel's dreams of Broadway had merely stagnated since her graduation from NYADA. Even though she'd made history by winning the Winter Showcase three straight years, even though she was held in the highest acclaim by her professors, even though she'd starred in eleven off-Broadway plays as a lead. Some would say it was luck, or she simply wasn't the right fit. She felt it was betrayal. It wasn't anything she understood or would consider fair, but it didn't seem life was so accommodating.

"I definitely will. After Blaine, Miguel and Harriet, you'll be the first to know." Kurt spoke reassuringly, before immediately shifting gears. "So how did that thing go in…Toronto, was it?"

Rachel let out a short sigh, nodding. "Toronto was interesting, I suppose. Learned the role in a week, played the lead for two. It was a good enough show, the crowds were alright." She answered, not telling the whole truth. Sure, Toronto was good, but it was al it ever could be. It wasn't Broadway. It wasn't challenging. There were maybe three regular critics in the audience, and while they'd praised her performance, she couldn't imagine which standard she was being held to.

"I'm just happy nothing happened to you. I read in the blogs that a lot of the cast suffered mysterious injuries recently. The understudy especially, I can't believe she got locked away for heroin trafficking! Who does that?!" Kurt yelled out in disbelief, and Rachel could only shake her head. The cast had simply had bad luck. There were broken legs, car accidents that caused whiplash and bruising, pneumonia, among many other things such as trafficking illegal substances. Rachel felt happy to leave unscathed. "I should have believed you when you told me they were cursed."

Rachel laughed, recalling when she'd told him that, and how he immediately had questioned her sanity and her decision to join a cast if she thought it was cursed. She was desperate, was all. "Like I said, it was interesting. But…it was fun being a lead again, and the crowd was at least steady, if a bit unruly at times. It just…"

"It wasn't Broadway." He finished for her, and she nodded sadly. Rachel wasn't sure why she'd had so much trouble getting roles on the big stages, but it was a fact of life she'd been living.

"I just wish someone would take a chance on me. Some people that I've beaten out for off-Broadway plays have gotten leads on Broadway…I'm better than them. I sing better, act better, dance better. Crystal Ericsson is sharp for two entire weeks of performance, but because she looks like a model, everyone forgives her and despite critics giving her two stars out of five in general, she's nominated for a Tony?! It's absurd." She ranted, feeling a terrible desire to vent her frustrations. It wasn't anything new, Kurt was likely used to it. She ranted all the time.

"Your dream role will come along one day, Rachel. You'll nail the audition and they'll have to have you. All the Broadway news writers will be wondering why you weren't America's darling years ago…it'll happen. Just keep believing." He stated, and Rachel could only nod. She had firmly believed that once, but the foundation had been chipped away, and after years of perfect auditions and inconsistent amounts of callbacks, it seemed more like an impossible dream than anything.

"Anyway, enough about me, how's Blaine?" she asked, needing a change of subject. She wondered if eventually they'd run out of things she was comfortable talking about, but she felt she had to make the effort anyway.

Kurt sighed happily, any mention of Blaine always made him do that. "He's working on an off-Broadway rock and roll play about some band I've never heard of. At least it's ninety percent singing, so it'll be bearable. He's running a yoga class in his spare time, too, which seems to be helping him with his stress." Rachel nodded happily at Kurt's words. It was nice to know Blaine was still trying for his dream, like her even if that dream had recently taken a turn toward writing and directing.

"That's good for him, I'm glad he's keeping busy." She stated, though felt a little worried when Kurt gave her an odd look right afterward.

"Why don't you pick up a second job to fill the time between plays? It'd definitely bring you in more money and keep you busy, maybe freshen you up a bit." He asked, but Rachel wasn't sure what to say. She occasionally moonlighted as a lounge singer, but was reluctant to tell the man about it, recalling how he'd once made the remark that they were the perfect mix of a singer and a stripper, void of all the positive qualities. Not that she always sang burlesque or anything; it was more of a rare occasion, but it did happen, and she knew he'd scold her for it. Even though it was productive, keeping her singing active, and the dresses were usually pretty nice, if a bit short at times. The songs weren't always suggestive either.

"I'll consider it, Kurt. That said I should really get to the airport, apparently a snow storm's coming through here soon, so I want to catch the customs check before it gets too crazy in there." Rachel noted hastily, Kurt nodding in understanding.

"Go catch that plane, and don't forget to give me a call…I'll try and fit you in for a visit one weekend." He stated, and she waved before signing off and closing her laptop. She bundled her tired body up and went out to grab the rental car, taking off quickly for the airport.

Rachel was tired a lot of the time, not just physically from the insomnia she'd been suffering off and on, but also just mentally and emotionally. She'd put everything she had into her career, she'd spent her life throwing herself into her passion. Sure, she loved what she did, but the luster was fading; it wasn't difficult to realize that in her pursuit for Broadway, she'd missed out on many other career-unrelated opportunities.

Rachel missed what love felt like. Heck, she missed what lust felt like. Her acting abilities and singing were exceptional, but she couldn't help but think that, after getting turned away from so many Broadway roles, that her appearance was holding her back. That she wasn't pretty enough, beautiful enough, that she didn't look the part. To have that possibly denied to her at birth, before she had a shot, felt preposterously unfair and heartbreaking; the mere idea had been viciously cutting down her ego across the past few years. Rachel wanted to be pretty, and had considered getting a nose job to help, thinking it might put her over the edge. That maybe then, she'd be happier. That maybe then, the hole she'd felt in her life for a long time would be fixed. That her regrets would fade away then. Packing up her things, she left the car park and made her way into the airport.

* * *

 

Santana had left that morning just before five, in the pitch-black pre-dawn hours before anyone in the house had woken up. She wasn't sure she could have faced her cousin after the previous night, feeling a little ashamed over how much of a coward she'd been in her life. Yet there she was, only living up to that title; escaping in the dark, running away from her cousin's words and loving concern.

It was early Wednesday morning, so it wasn't terribly packed, even with it being the day before Christmas Eve. She supposed the snow storm could have something to do with it, but either way, she was glad that she could avoid as much pandemonium as possible, she just wasn't in the mood for it. It was why she'd decided to take the 8AM flight out to JFK, which she was happy about seeing as how the snow was really starting to pile up outside.

The regular procedure wasn't too terrible; she slogged her way through customs mostly annoyed by how the person in front of her couldn't recall how many metal objects they had on them, and seemed to enjoy taking them out and testing themselves one by one. It was just when she was about to get her baggage checked that her flight was announced as delayed.

It wasn't as if she had anywhere to go, but she was pretty miffed about being stuck in one spot, not able to really go anywhere. It didn't help that she knew it would only get worse as Christmas neared, whether or not the storm let up. Breathing out a frustrated sigh, she dragged her luggage across to the waiting area, plopping down onto a seat about as grumpily as one probably could. _This morning can't really get much worse…_ she thought to herself as she looked out at the blizzard outside, tinged a pale yellow from all the lights around. Some days, that sight would cheer her up, but as it was the cause of her issue, it just wasn't enough. Some forecasts had the blizzard set to continue partially through Christmas day, which would be a disaster. Well, not a huge one, but Santana didn't want to spend the yuletide in an airport in Canada, no matter how polite it all was. Besides, she was in the international area with mostly Americans, it certainly wouldn't carry over.

Santana looked down at the guitar case at her feet, thinking that at least if she got heinously bored, she could resort to doing the same thing that's apparently been holding her back for so many years, the same thing that's apparently turned every moment of happiness across the past years into a hollow victory. Not that she didn't love music, it was her passion after all, but she wondered how long she could expect herself to try when she hadn't even seen a glimmer of success.

She shook her head, deciding to just be happy that she had heat and shelter, if temporary, and that the airport did have food available to her. _And alcohol…not that I could really afford that luxury…_ she mused, knowing that she hadn't had much in the way of spending money the past years. Spending two months living in a boiler room had taught her the values of frugality and being cautious with her money.

Santana pulled out her phone, checking the time, to find that it was only seven thirty. _I can't believe I'm up so god damn early…I…you know, I kind of just want to go back to sleep. Why don't airports have beds? Beh…I guess it'd be a bad idea. If my flight's green lit anytime soon, I'd probably miss it._ She thought to herself, deciding to put her hands to work in order to stay awake and alert.

She pulled out her trusty notepad, and immediately wondered if most songwriters took years to fill out a two hundred fifty sheet pad. She imagined it wasn't likely, but she'd never been the most prolific. Santana grabbed a pen from her carry-on and rested the tip on the blank sheet, wondering if she could legitimately write a Christmas song about how shitty it was to be stuck in a foreign airport, only to realize that she'd be just as lonely there as in the airport. It'd be one of those bitter, sad songs, like 'Blue Christmas' or 'Last Christmas'. _When did I get so jaded? Christmas used to be my favourite holiday…_ she stifled a groan at the thought, but the answer wasn't so difficult. It was a mix of not having Britt's enthusiasm around anymore, not having Rachel's exuberance for singing carols, and not having any friends or family to spend it with.

She hummed anyway, trying to figure out some melody to use for a possible song. She'd never been one to start with lyrics, they'd always just happened when she found the right sound. Just as she was feeling out something that sounded good, her humming was drowned out by the distant yet loud ramblings of a woman over by the ticket agents. It was eerily familiar, but she didn't want to lose her train of thought, so she hastily scribbled down her melody on paper, or at least what she'd considered up to that point. As she scribbled away, the voice became clearer and more familiar, and it was then that she heard the rapid pitter-patter of feet heading off in her general direction.

Santana looked up and her suspicions were proven to be eerily correct. Against all odds, she was in the path of a famous diva storm-out, her once-upon-a-time roommate of thirteen months rushing off in her direction, apparently also stuck in godforsaken Toronto, during a blizzard, days before Christmas, probably during Hanukkah. It was amusing, watching the diva weave her way past the growing crowd of people, and when the woman was within about thirty feet she froze, Santana finding herself staring at Rachel Barbra Berry in all her wintery glory.

"Santana?" the diva asked weakly, her voice cracking from confusion and likely remnants of the anger she'd expressed just moments earlier to Pearson Airport's staff. Santana couldn't help but wonder if her day had just gotten worse, or if she'd received a blessing in a crazy, tiny diva-shaped disguise.


	2. Chapter 2

Rachel stood frozen in place, the odd traveler passing in front of her here and there as she stared wide-eyed at her former roommate, neither altering their matched gazes. It wasn't only a surprise to see the girl, but also to have been staring so long without one of the girl's trademark quick-witted remarks breaking the ice; Santana was always one to think fast and react without a filter, while she'd often need time to think, which made it all the more curious that the raven-haired beauty in front of her was silent. _I can only imagine what's going through her head right now…but, more importantly…what the heck is she doing here in Toronto at eight o'clock in the morning? Since when does she ever get up early?_

She knew that she'd called the girl's name a while ago; whether it was seconds or minutes, she wasn't sure. All that she knew was the girl had an unreadable expression on her face, and that made her question whether she was welcome; the girl hadn't even answered or made a gesture of acknowledgement, not that she cared that much. Well, not that she wanted to care that much, anyway. It had been a similar situation when they had all split up years ago, Rachel deciding that it would hurt too much to continue caring about the girl, so she had stopped and quickly lost contact with her old friend. To see her so close again stung more than a little bit, because while she hadn't made efforts to contact Santana, the other girl hadn't tried to contact her either, which only made her feel the imposed silence was something Santana had preferred. Though, even with Santana complicit in the non-communication, she couldn't help but feel guilty for initiating it.

Kurt had moved to Manhattan to be closer to his job at Vogue, while she'd moved to a small condo in Park Slope to be closer to BAM, where some of her steadier performances were held around the time of their separation. Santana had gone somewhere. Rachel had never been too sure where, but by her presence in the airport, she was sure it wasn't Toronto. She wondered if Santana lived alone too; if she missed their wacky outings together, often reminisced about the thirteen short months they'd spent together growing their friendship. _A friendship that I threw away…probably the only friendship I did that to…_

"Are you just gonna stand there, Berry?" she heard Santana ask warily, breaking Rachel from her thoughts. Prompted with such a question, she looked around, only to find all of the seats were filled. Rachel frowned at the sight, but it didn't last long; Santana started grumbling and knocked some stranger's luggage off the seat beside her, clearing her a seat. Rachel, however, noticed that the stranger was too busy listening to music on his headphones and attempting to ogle her to care about his luggage, so she merely gestured Santana to follow her instead.

The girl got up with a groan, but gamely stood and gathered her luggage before following Rachel down the hall, further from the waiting area. She almost felt bad for Santana, who was lugging around a larger piece of luggage without wheels along with a guitar case, while she had a nice compact one on wheels, making the trip rather easy. She eventually found a nice comfortable looking wall with four seats jutting out of it; she quickly rested her luggage off to the side and sat, gesturing for Santana to do the same.

"The waiting area will be much too crowded far too soon, and we won't want to be there. Besides, this hall seems fairly less traveled than some of the others." Rachel stated, taking a look around.

"We will if we want to catch our flight." The other girl mumbled, sitting down onto one of the seats beside her roughly, clearly tired. It did allow Rachel to get a closer, albeit brief look at the girl; she wasn't wearing much makeup, but it looked like Santana had probably been sleeping as well as she had been. Which, really, wasn't a good thing.

"I have an app on my phone that will notify us if the delay is lifted, so don't worry about that, Santana." She stated happily, her words apparently putting the other girl at ease, given the long sigh Santana let out.

"You supposed to catch the eight o'clock to JFK too?" Santana asked quietly, her eyes closed and head tilted toward the ceiling as she stretched out in her seat.

Santana still lived in New York. It came as a relief, knowing that she was so close, but she couldn't help but be depressed that as large as the city was, no one was ever that far apart. Chances are she could have made a thirty or forty minute commute any day of the week to wherever Santana lived. Rachel wanted to try and gauge the other girl's success, wondering how she'd been doing, but no one looked good that early in the morning. "Yes." She noted simply, not sure what else she could say, or more accurately, what would be appropriate to say.

"Well, it's good one of us is prepared, then." The other girl scoffed, though it sounded more like the start of a laugh, the brief flicker of an upward curve on Santana's lips confirming that notion quickly.

"I wouldn't be Rachel Barbra Berry if I wasn't prepared for such an emergency. And, of course, being stuck in an airport during a blizzard counts as an emergency, in case you were to question its merit as one." She rambled, feeling a little nervous that Santana had barely looked at her since they left the waiting room. Rachel desperately hoped she wasn't making anything too awkward, she knew she tended to do that sometimes in strained social situations where guidelines of conduct weren't entirely clear.

"Not gonna dispute that, short stack." Santana chuckled, finally opening her eyes, though her gaze was still locked to the ceiling. It at least gave Rachel a chance to look closer at the woman, and upon a brief appraisal, her eyes caught sight of a small notebook clutched in the girl's right hand, a thumb keeping her page where there seemed to be something written in pen.

She shifted slightly closer, trying to get a better look, and Santana didn't even seem to notice or care. It was a strange variation from how the girl had been when they'd lived together, where Santana was all about digging into other people's privacy, but would also keep her own strictly hidden away. It had been frustrating then, and she wondered what made that change. "Are you following in my footsteps now, or Quinn's?" she asked the raven-haired girl beside her, who just huffed at her question in confusion before turning to look at her.

Rachel just gestured to the pad, which Santana slipped her thumb out of reflexively. "I haven't been as successful as you or anything, which is kind of disgraceful now that I think about it, but yeah…I guess I have." Santana spoke, though she looked like she was desperately searching for the right words, which really wasn't like her. "You did say I should give it a shot…you know, way back when."

Rachel nodded in understanding; she had told Santana to give songwriting a chance when the girl had been wondering what direction to take her life in. She knew the girl's voice was radio-friendly, that Santana was good with words and had a good feel for music, so she had figured it would be a good fit. _That was about three weeks before we all went our separate ways…_

"Do you write music for a living?" She asked simply, deciding not to barrage her ex roommate with questions that were popping up in her head.

"I write and perform my stuff, the odd cover here or there, whatever." Santana stated offhandedly, which was an interesting response. Santana had always been a passionate person, especially with music, so it wasn't like her to just brush that sort of thing off. Rachel certainly wasn't sure the girl was just being modest either.

"Jeez, Santana. Don't sound too enthusiastic." She spoke, laughing a little in hopes to lighten the mood. Santana gave a small, tired smile and leaned back in her chair a little.

"I love it, it's just…it's not easy." The girl spoke quietly, letting out another sigh. "It's a lot of long nights, a lot of one meal days, a lot of gas money spent, a lot of road trips to play concerts for fifty people who never buy merch or my album. A lot of constant debts to pay off or worry about. It's hard. The music's the easy part. Everything else…well, it is what it is." Santana spoke wearily, and Rachel couldn't help but wonder if she was just capping off a small tour or in the midst of one, potentially missing a show in New York if she didn't get back soon enough. Not that apparently many people would truly miss her, which was more than a little depressing.

"I understand what it's like to not be appreciated." Rachel added, feeling very similar frustrations over her own career projections and the trials she'd endured to have what little she had.

Santana shot her an immediate hard and disbelieving glare. "Yeah, because Broadway star Rachel Berry doesn't sell out every crowd or something."

Rachel recoiled at the words, and realized that as much as she'd cut Santana from her life, Santana had avoided her. "I'm not exactly on Broadway yet, let alone a star. I just finished a job here in Toronto because it was the only lead role I could get." She explained, and to her delight, Santana looked genuinely shocked, and kind of outraged if that angry little eye twitch still meant what it used to.

"What the hell has been going on over on that fucking island?" Santana growled out as she shook her head. "Seriously, you fucking blew right through all your competition, your profs swooned when you sang. SWOONED. You sang in central park once and a kid actually literally thought you were an angel, so what the fuck happened? You're like the best singer out there, and you can pull pretty much any emotion out on a drop of a hat….what the fuck."

Rachel sat there for a moment, drinking in the unexpected compliments, unable to keep from smiling bashfully from hearing someone who used to constantly tear her down put her on a pedestal. Sure, she knew she was probably the best active stage singer in New York, but she was clearly missing something, otherwise she would have made it by then. "I…thank you for the compliments, Santana. It's just…the Broadway producers seem to be looking for qualities that I don't have."

She more or less expected Santana to make a joke about her appearance, whether it was lighthearted and playful like they had come to be near the end of their time together or not, but the darker girl just kept shaking her head.

"It's bullshit. You should be headlining a show by now. I deserve to be where I am, but you…fuck, everyone knows you don't." Santana noted quietly, slumping forward in her seat as she ran a hand through her hair.

Rachel quietly hummed in pseudo-agreement, but didn't know what to say. She didn't know enough about Santana to give a fair appraisal, and they'd always had this relationship where they tried to be honest with each other. If Rachel was falling off the tracks, dating a creeper, and losing her focus, Santana called her out. If Santana was being aimless and running away from making the most minimal of decisions about her life, Rachel called her on it. She knew Santana wouldn't be up for any empty platitudes, so she just remained quiet until she knew better about the girl's music.

Eventually, Santana cocked her head slightly toward Rachel again, though most of her face was hidden by her hair. "How's Kurt? You two keep in touch still?" The other girl asked, and Rachel decided she'd ignore what was really being asked for the moment. It wasn't something she felt comfortable explaining.

"He's one of Vogue's top editors now, not just online. He's…doing really well for himself. This morning, he told me he's been chosen to help manage both of New York's next Fashion Week festivals." She explained as calmly as she could, knowing that Santana was like a bloodhound, able to smell any hint of jealousy she harbored.

"He still make time for you? Sounds like he's got a busy life." Santana stated, turning in her seat and tucking her legs under herself to fully face Rachel.

She knew her former roommate had caught scent of something, and she wasn't sure what was going on in Santana's mind, so she just stayed her course in the discussion. "We skype often enough…but I haven't seen him in person for about six months, maybe seven. That was for an hour long coffee date." She didn't try to hide her disappointment, figuring it would be a useless endeavour anyway. Santana had always been scarily perceptive, much like Brittany had been, which is why they'd been so dangerous. Santana could smell out perfect targets like sharks went after blood in the water. Brittany would milk information naively out of people with her cheery and often nonsensical banter, and when Santana was relayed it eventually, she'd viciously use it against people when they were at their most vulnerable. It had been an espionage and terrorism match made in heaven.

"That's shitty, Berry. He forgot Blaine when he moved here, and then he gets big and forgets about the girl that helped him get there. I hope you wished him a merry fucking Christmas this morning, then." Santana stated bitterly, seemingly offended on her behalf, though for what reason she wasn't sure.

"Santana, I haven't seen you in years, so I'm not someone who can act all high and mighty." Rachel retorted, earning a cocked eyebrow as Santana looked at her disbelievingly.

"You're kidding, right? It wouldn't have fucking mattered…once I left that barren apartment with you two, I was gone, alright? I knew you needed time to practice, audition, rehearse, all that shit…you wouldn't have time for me, and I knew that was how it was heading even if I knew you probably didn't, so I vanished." Santana explained quickly, and Rachel had to do a double-take at the girl's words. _Santana stopped contacting me…for my sake? I'm not sure I can believe that._

Rachel reached out a laid a hand on Santana's shoulder. "I should have made time. I regret that I didn't."

"Don't worry about it, I was fine." Santana noted, rolling her eyes, a reaction she usually got after physical contact when she was nervous. _Which means she probably wasn't THAT fine…_

Rachel decided to change things up a little to give her a break, while pressing her in a slightly different area. "Where did you end up settling after we all went our separate ways?" she asked, earning a slight shrug.

"I went to Queens. Not the nicest neighbourhood in there, but I could afford the rent, and I could manage for a while." Santana said, her nervous hands giving her away despite the cool, calm expression on her face. "What job did you do up here, anyway?"

Rachel let the topic go for the moment, deciding it would be better left for later. "I took over the lead in 'Mamma Mia!' for a few weeks while the original lead recovered from a gunshot wound…at least that's what I heard. It was fun enough, I guess."

"I hope it bodes well for your future. I know Toronto's not Broadway, but a lead on a big show is something that could get you noticed." Santana's attempts to spur hopefulness weren't exactly catching on with Rachel, but she supposed it was good that at least someone had higher hopes for her future.

"Thanks. What were you doing here in Toronto? Playing a show?" she asked, curious as to why the girl would be up in the great white north.

Santana shook her head and laughed. "No, I don't have any pull up here, and it'd be too expensive to tour here and take that risk. No, I was just visiting my cousin for a few days."

"Most people stay with their family for Christmas, not leave a few days before." Rachel noted with amusement, which clearly wasn't lost on Santana, who swatted lightly at her.

"I'm not most people, I can only handle my family in small doses." The girl said, chuckling, though her eyes were focused off at some blank square on the wall ahead of them. Rachel took the brief distraction to consider her own family. She'd last seen her fathers the previous year for her birthday, but while she was stuck in an airport and had been working away in Toronto over her birthday that year, her fathers were on some Mediterranean cruise for the whole month of December.

She missed them. She missed a lot of things, but she really did miss them, and Rachel really wished she could make more time for them. "Family is important." She mumbled, unsure of who out of the two she was trying to convince.

"So I've been told." Santana stated tiredly almost immediately, which snapped her head toward the raven-haired woman.

"There a story behind that?" she asked, wondering if maybe she was pressing too hard for information, considering she hadn't seen Santana in years.

"Maybe one will materialize after I get some food in me." Santana answered, getting up from her seat to stretch. "Come on, I'm hungry for breakfast, and I'm curious to see if they serve the same bile they do in JFK."

Rachel just nodded as she grabbed her luggage, both of them walking off through the terminal for somewhere decent to eat.

* * *

 

211 Belaire Café seemed like a good enough place, Santana figured. It was a small little restaurant with tables and seats and everything, which was nice to find in an airport. The pair had stopped off at a nearby mini mart beforehand to grab some vegan stuff for Rachel to eat, as apparently the place didn't have the best selection of vegan food. Santana, on the other hand, was tremendously pleased with her warm, gooey cinnamon bun and figured it would make her day a teensy bit better, which she deserved for being snowed in.

The both of them kept some idle conversation, Santana more or less just giving easy responses when she needed to, it was their dynamic when Rachel knew Santana needed time to figure out how to tell her something, but also needed to not be surrounded in silence and the pressure of being the first to speak. It was nice to have that comfortable buffer back; Rachel had always been a really good conversationalist, though she realized the girl wasn't talking in paragraphs as often, nor was she as verbose or over-dramatic. It was an interesting change, one she'd question the diva on later. Truth be told, she kind of missed the diva's crazy, long-winded nervous rants.

But all in all, as she finished her breakfast pita, she couldn't help but be kind of relieved that she was re-connecting with someone. She'd really missed Berry. She'd missed having friends. Not that she felt it fair to consider Rachel her friend, considering the years between them, just like how she knew Rachel shouldn't see Santana as one either. They had a bit over six years between them , which was longer than the span of time that they'd honestly known each other, even as enemies.

Santana pulled out her notepad and watched with amusement as Rachel continued to devour the mountain of vegan food she'd bought; she'd wanted to write a Christmas song, but all she'd been able to write was a jaded reflection of her life. Not that it was a bad set of lyrics, it was just brutally honest and she wasn't sure how easy it would be to put that sort of thing out to the public. Especially seeing how she still wasn't sure what she wanted to do with it, though she did know what sort of sound she needed it to have.

"So, how's the music life going? I…I know you gave me some details beforehand, but I really just want to know if you're doing alright. It isn't an easy field." Rachel stated, drawing Santana's attention from her pad.

"I kind of told about as much as I could before." She answered, not sure what Rachel wanted from her with that choice of topic.

"You said it was hard, but…nothing about the music itself." Rachel clarified, and Santana nodded, sort of understanding that Rachel was curious, so of course she'd be interested in her music, even if the general populace had already proven to her that her music wasn't exactly exciting.

Santana cocked her head to the side a bit, trying to figure out how she wanted to say things. "I…kind of do a bit of everything, I guess. My music tastes have always been pretty widely spread out, and my song writing's followed that too, for better or worse. Well, definitely worse, objectively, seeing as most people pick one style. It's been hard to get out an album with a cohesive sound…I have, like forty something tracks recorded that I think are pretty great, but they don't have a home yet. I…well, I'm just waiting for enough songs to be similar so I can bundle them into something."

Rachel's eyes grew wide, her excitement bubbling up into her face. "Is your album close to done?" the girl asked breathlessly, as if it were an answer she should be breathless about, when most wouldn't waste their breath talking about it after hearing it.

"It's actually out. Didn't fare well…twelve tracks, forty seven minutes and thirty three seconds of music that's got about five thousand sales. Not real great for something that's been out for almost two years." She explained with a frown, wishing she had a label to market her stuff, but she'd had to do all the leg-work herself, and that was a big issue in the whole money-generating part of her life.

"Oh." Rachel said softly, looking surprisingly sad about how everything had gone down. _On second thought, it shouldn't be a surprise…she's always been a total sweetheart, and she always cared about me…_ "So, um…what else do you have on the go to help make ends meet?"

Santana shrugged, trying to fight the flush of embarrassment, not wanting Rachel to know that she did less than classy things for money alongside a coffeehouse gig that gave her too few hours and too few tip opportunities. "It's nothing interesting, really. What have you been in, play-wise and all?"

"Well I've been in a lot of productions, though my major ones lately were Mamma Mia, of course, an off-Broadway production of Passion, and a new production called Nights Errant, which was purely acting. The script was really well done, but the subject material was a bit off the wall, it being about a lesbian dominatrix that spends seventy two hours in a hotel in south New Jersey, and runs into all sorts of fantastical things. It's all basically about a person who's finally challenging their need for control, and as the dominatrix's hold on reality weakens, the protagonist, represented by seven different people, becomes free. It was weird, but a fun experience." Rachel rambled happily, and Santana really wanted to not picture Rachel as a dominatrix. Honestly, it was close to Christmas, and those sorts of thoughts just weren't welcome.

"Good on you for branching out. Not that you should have to, but it's a good idea, expand your portfolio and all." Santana replied, standing up from her seat. "Ready to get back?"

Rachel nodded, grabbing her luggage and wheeling it alongside Santana, who felt entirely frustrated that her luggage didn't have wheels. She decided quickly that she needed better luggage. "It'll at least be a white Christmas out here."

"I'm sure the Canadians will appreciate it more than me." Santana scoffed, just wishing her plane would be able to take her away from Toronto.

As they found themselves back at their wall and in their seats again, Rachel turned to her, her face contorted somewhat from thought. "In high school…did you ever think we'd end up where we are in life?" Rachel asked, and the question hit harder than she'd expected it to.

Santana bowed her head a bit, taking a breath or two to figure how best to say what she needed to. It was an answer she knew full well, but one she was reluctant to voice. _Well, I've already hit rock bottom before, may as well just get it out._ "Not about you, but for me…I kind of expected to fail, yeah."

Not really feeling up for any follow ups, or in the mood to watch Rachel's gaping stares anymore, she flipped open her pad and began tweaking verses, adding the odd word to make things feel better. She'd written a song, or most of one, in an airport. Before nine thirty in the morning. It was absurd.

Happy with the silence and lack of nosiness from Berry, she toiled away on the piece until she was happy with the end result. Feeling the lingering wisps of sleep at the edges of her mind, she allowed herself a bit of rest. "Hey, I'm tired, I got maybe two hours last night. Will you make sure the Canadian hobos don't politely steal my belongings?" she asked groggily, earning a nod from Rachel. "Good. I'd hate to track them down and listen to them ramble on about their apologies and shit."

"No worries, Santana. Just get some rest."

And so she did.

* * *

 

Rachel was more than a tiny bit concerned. She'd never seen Santana so down and out about something she was passionate about, and it had been a long time since she'd seen the girl so evasive about anything. It had her curious as to how the girl had been since the split. Santana had always been a fount of confidence, even if it was false bravado; it made Santana something of a confident mess of a girl, but without any of that confidence, she was just simply a bit of a mess.

Not that she hadn't seen Santana struggle mightily before; she'd seen it with Brittany, and during her time in their apartment, where Santana would mask her disappointment or hurt by showing in her confidence in something that was sometimes related and sometimes not. Such as when she and Kurt had kicked Santana out after her Paula Abdul routine in front of Brody, though Santana always bounced back with her wit, verbal jabs and playfulness intact.

In a way, Rachel came to really enjoy the other girl's childishness at times. Sure, Santana was quite often clearly immature, but she had been fun to have around the apartment when they were getting along, and she never let Rachel stay bored for long, or mope around. Santana always found a way to jump in with some ludicrous idea or plan that managed to get her mind off all the stressors she had been dealing with. For a few months in her freshman year and the following summer, Santana was the only person who kept her sane, especially after losing the Fanny Brice role to a relative of Meryl Streep who was so putrid that the Broadway show was cancelled after the first two weeks. It was the first of many disappointments she'd had to endure, and watching her favourite musical go down in flames due to a lack of talent, talent which she could have used to save it, had been heartbreaking.

After they had all split up, Rachel found herself quickly missing that playfulness, that easy amusement, and she knew how handy it would have been some nights after long rehearsals or auditions, or the mass amount of days she'd simply been lonely. Sure, Santana was often abrasive and would insult her constantly, but it was all done in jest and at the end of the day, the girl would have her feeling better about herself somehow, and she had a terrific sense for when people just needed company. Rachel supposed it came from being friends with Brittany, who didn't speak so much as use body language, and Quinn, who always looked like an ice-queen even when she was incredibly vulnerable. Santana had managed to handle both of those terribly strange people, so she imagined that Rachel Barbra Berry wasn't so difficult. After all, Rachel knew she wore her heart out on her sleeve, was a terrible liar, and openly moped. It had just been impressive that the girl could tell what mood she was in based on where she'd drop her bag, her walking pace, which part of the apartment she'd enter first, among other 'tells' that Santana had managed to figure out over time. And while sometimes she honestly did want to be alone back in the day, it was always nice to know that the other girl would constantly look out for her. It was nice to know someone cared, especially once Kurt began to drift. Trying to be a Broadway star left minimal time for getting out and socializing, and over the years she often wished she had someone to come home to like Santana who could cheer her up, watch bad movies with her, and sing silly songs with her like they used to do.

"How did I just let her slip through my fingers?" she wondered openly, her eyes glancing over at the sleeping girl. It was a question she'd considered many times, and she was left without an ironclad answer. In truth, she'd grown rather close to the raven-haired girl, having become a card-carrying member of the Santana Lopez Friend's Club, and with Kurt straying, she supposed she was just scared of that happening with Santana. Rachel and Kurt had never had the closest relationship, but they'd been somewhat amiable, which made it difficult when he started removing himself from her life. It wasn't easy, and it hurt, but she was able to withstand it. Whereas Rachel and Santana had been enemies longer than they'd been friends, but their ascent into friendship was like a bell curve, slow at first but steeper as they went. It was difficult to earn the girl's trust, but once she had it, it seemed to change everything. And Rachel couldn't fathom losing Santana so quickly, watching them grow apart over a length of time, so perhaps she'd decided to simply cut her off in hopes that sting wouldn't hurt as much.

In hindsight, it was tremendously stupid, but she never expected Santana to stick around. She never expected Santana to be loyal and remain so close with her. Rachel took another look at the sleeping girl and frowned, the thought that had lingered for years crossing her mind once more. _I never thought she'd ever want more from me…and I suppose maybe I wasn't sure I could keep from asking her, and that would only cause us to drift…_

Rachel felt guilty, seeing the weathered girl before her, wondering if perhaps her friendship would have helped Santana during her struggles. Wondering if they could have helped each other, even. It was a nice thought; she knew Santana had a large yet fragile ego, and self esteem issues, and often needed some subtle help dealing with it all. Without her around, she wondered if anyone took up the role to keep Santana from deflecting and getting overly defensive. It was clear that she'd lost much of the trust she'd built with Santana over their time apart, based on how vague and evasive her answers were; it worried her tremendously, yet intrigued her that seemingly every time she'd ask a difficult question, Santana would have her notepad in hand, writing away on it.

Feeling a little nosy, curious and perhaps a bit suicidal considering her knowledge of Santana's privacy and rage issues, Rachel reached over and grabbed the notepad resting on top of the girl's carry-on. Slowly, she flipped through it, many pages with crossed out lyrics, some with full sets that had been modified to death, some with just sloppily scribed sheet music. It was clear that the notepad was the girl's musical workbook, and when she got to the newest entry, she froze, her eyes scanning it over. It was a fairly long song, or a song with a lot of words sung quickly, and it looked close to done structurally.

As she read and re-read the lyrics, she found herself nodding, the content resonating with her on a number of levels. Sure, some of it was off-base with her own experiences, and she was surprised at Santana's flair for the dramatic in parts, but she knew the sense of overwhelming regret well. She'd been living with it for years, and she also knew the cost of her pursuit to be happy. Or, rather, her pursuit to make it to Broadway in order to be happy, and the knowledge that her efforts maybe didn't get her as far as the time she spent on it was worth. Some lines were vivid and heart-wrenchingly candid, but a pair of lines really stood out to her and made her blush from guilt, evidence of her mistake clear across the page as any truth that she'd learned in her life, and the sheer embarrassment and hurt emanating from them had her hastily placing the pad back where it was. _I should have asked her…_ she mused, breathing as calmly as she could, trying to fight her tears as she thought about how she would handle the new information. Even with the pad a few feet out of her reach, the words were still swimming in her head.

 _"I was kind of hoping you'd say; I was kind of hoping you'd stay…" How could I have been so stupid? I knew about her abandonment issues, and yet I just went and cut her off, like everyone else did to her…_ she thought, chiding herself for being such a horrible friend, and not thinking about someone other than herself back then. _She just wanted someone to stay, for once…to show her they wanted her around…_

Rachel looked down at the sleeping girl, and mentally amended her understanding of Santana. _She's not a girl, she's a woman…just because the years between that milestone and where we are now have been…somewhat wasteful, it doesn't change the fact that we're both adults now. We're both twenty six._ She mused, wondering if maybe that confusion was what adulthood was about, even if just in part. If it was about broken dreams, struggling to gain enough perspective every year to keep from cracking, and learning their efforts didn't always secure them success. That some who made little or no effort got what some worked tirelessly for, even though some people desperately wanted it more.

If she'd gotten what she thought she deserved, Rachel wouldn't have been in the predicament of having received an email from her landlord, giving her notice to move out. Her apartment building was to be demolished in mid-late January, and that meant that she'd be looking for a new home. _At least it'll be a slow season and it should be easy to grab up a place…I just wish that it affected me more…_

Truthfully, she'd gotten the notice and shrugged. She was secure, certainly traditionally stable enough in her life. As Santana had written, everything people said about stability was a lie; Rachel had money to live off of, even if it wasn't as comfortable a life as she'd hoped for. It was at least good enough that she didn't miss meals, could afford to eat out occasionally, and could buy the odd blu-ray or see a few shows a year. That was what most considered to be stability, yet it meant so little to her. Sure, Rachel knew that she was spoiled to a degree, and that she was privileged and was taking much of those elements of financial stability for granted. It was just that it didn't matter much in the face of how unstable her happiness was in her life.

Sure, singing made her happy, performing made her happy, but once that was over she was faced with the same depressing reality she'd lived through for years. Money, food, and shelter were wonderful, but they didn't complete her, and she assumed Broadway wouldn't either. She wasn't about to trade in her Broadway dreams, of course, because she'd always wanted that, but she needed more than Broadway in her life. Rachel, over the years, couldn't help the nagging feeling that she'd screwed up along the way, ignoring her need for something to supplement those goals and the time away from the stage; something else to co-star with her other dreams. _I should have been more ambitious…despite what everyone told me all my life, I should have dreamed bigger! I shouldn't have given up after Finn, Jesse, Puck , Brody and all those minor flings along the way. I shouldn't have stopped trying in junior year…I'm twenty six. I won't wait any longer…_


	3. Chapter 3

Santana woke to a much louder airport than the one she'd fallen asleep in. People were piling in, footsteps echoing everywhere as she drifted into consciousness. Even their little hall that once only held the two of them was filled with a few more stragglers, likely people with similar plans to escape the masses for a little while longer. One duo of presumably a mother and daughter caught her attention, seated across from them along a dividing wall. As Santana's eyes cleared ad her focus returned, she realized the girl was staring in awe at her guitar case. She smirked a little, recalling that she'd had the same reaction when she first had walked into a music store and saw the guitar she still lugged around. Sure, it was a little odd that a young girl was gaping in awe at her ragged guitar case, carrying an even more weathered guitar, but it was nice to know some kids still saw the magic in music.

Wiping the rest of the sleep from her eyes, she looked over to where Rachel was sitting, the woman not having moved at all from what she could remember; Rachel was just focusing intently on her phone's screen, so Santana figured she wouldn't disturb her. She stretched out for a moment, to try and relieve herself of the stiffness plaguing her body, before slumping back down against the wall she'd propped herself against for her nap. Santana wasn't sure how long she'd slept yet, but she was feeling a fair bit better already.

Rachel seemed entirely engrossed in whatever she was busy looking at, which left her with no real opportunity to relieve her boredom but tweaking her song, or perhaps pulling her guitar out to idly play some music. Santana wasn't naïve, she knew that there wasn't a consistency to people's love of buskers. In some places, people loved and welcomed them, but in some, they'd be chased out quickly with a lot of threats about bringing hell and physical violence and lawsuits or whatever stick got up someone's ass on a given day. She wasn't sure how the crowds nearby would take to her playing around, but she figured she was trapped with them and their mindless white noise jabbering, so her music would fit in perfectly.

Taking a moment to consider her options, she eventually caught a glance from the young girl across from her, who looked like she desperately wanted to say something but was much too shy. Santana made the call and dragged her guitar case onto her lap, opening it and pulling her old beauty out. It was her first guitar, and it had survived alongside her since her fourteenth birthday, when she'd bought it for herself in absence of gifts from her family. She brushed her hand over it, taking in all the wear and tear; it had busted and been knocked around so many times that it sounded very little like it did when she first bought it, but she loved the thing. It had character. It was enduring evidence of her first real effort to pursue her passion. Evidence that her dream, as fractured and weathered as it was, wasn't entirely lost quite yet. That it still had a bit left in it.

Santana quickly slung it over her shoulder, feeling the familiar weight before sliding her case off her lap and onto the ground, allowing the guitar to rest naturally on her crossed legs. She took a few moments to tune the guitar, as the tuning pegs had a tendency to slip a fair bit over time. Her baby was getting old, and she knew it wouldn't last all that much longer, but she'd keep it working as long as she could. If that meant taking five minutes to tune her guitar and shift the pegs to make them stick in place better, so be it. By the time she was finished, she realized that she had both Rachel and the young girl's rapt attention; she understood Rachel being curious about her music, and figured the young girl just wanted to hear something to drown out the blabbering of the masses.

She stole a brief glance at her roommate, who looked intrigued, before fully facing the young girl. "Any requests?" she asked simply, feeling kind of less grumpy than earlier in the morning, and much more charitable.

The kid immediately shot up from a seated position to her knees, stumbling forward a little bit. "Can…"

"Now, Grace, she's not a karaoke machine. Keep that in mind, alright princess? Don't try to goad her into anything." The older woman stated, cutting her daughter off, who looked positively remorseful.

Santana laughed at the pouting girl and gave a reassuring smile to the mother. "It's totally fine, I'll only play what I know, anyway. And, if you want, I can keep it strictly seasonal." Santana noted, before turning to catch Rachel with an excited grin on her face. "Heck, I'll even lure my Broadway friend here to help with the singing if she feels up to it."

Rachel blushed hard immediately, but gave a polite nod that did nothing to mask her enthusiasm. She knew the diva loved performing, it was her happy place; it was why glee was so special for the both of them.

"Can…can you play some Florence and the Machine? I saw the sticker on your case and I've been wondering if you're just a fan, or maybe a roadie, or maybe you know her, or maybe you just thought the sticker was cool, but then I figured that'd be silly and…" the girl rambled at a speed rivaling Rachel in sophomore year, which was kind of remarkable. Santana just held up her hand, trying to keep her amused smirk from getting any bigger; she didn't want to make the kid feel bad or embarrassed or anything.

"I know a song from one of her older albums, but I might need some help from a friend. And I don't know the song all that well on guitar anymore, it's been a few years." Santana said softly, her eyes darting to spot Rachel giving her a questioning look. "'Shake It Out', follow my lead… but jump in when it feels natural, alright?"

Rachel gave her a thumbs up and Santana started what basic chord progression she knew the song followed. She'd rarely played it since performing it to Bieste; it was a special moment and she didn't feel that much could be done to top it in her books.

If she were to be honest, the song was eerily fitting for both of their situations, at least what Santana knew of Rachel's. They both made mistakes along the way, they both had regrets and failures and for too long Santana knew that hers haunted her with every breath. She desperately wanted to shake out the skeletons in her closet and all her hang-ups, it was just hard to do alone. She'd tried before, only to just fail even worse. _At least I still want to try, though…I'm not entirely out of this yet, I still have hope, as dim as it is at times. I still love doing this...I just don't want it to be the death of me..._ She mused to herself, knowing that as hard as it would be, she'd have to exorcise her past in order to get past it.

At the same time though, Santana really didn't want to kill off her entire history. She had a lot of great moments, mostly involving glee and those thirteen months spent in New York with Kurt and Rachel. Those moments, or the memories of them, were things she held dear and cherished when she was struggling and desperate. Letting go of that meant letting go of everything that helped get her through the past few years, and while her past was a reason why she'd struggled so mightily, it wasn't the only reason. Her career choice was not an objectively wise one when it came to financial stability, after all, and that had been the primary reason why her life had been so difficult.

And it WAS difficult, along with both her past and the prospect of dealing with it. Could she exorcise her past without exorcising Rachel? The girl was right beside her in the hallway, and if she were to be honest, Santana didn't want to say goodbye so soon. Especially when the other girl needed some cheering up still; though, as they finished the song, it was clear to see Rachel was already in a better mood. She just wanted that to extend to after performing too, and she kind of wanted to hear Rachel sing along in not just a backing role.

Her eyes quickly found the young girl, Grace, who was looking absolutely over the moon from the performance, clapping enthusiastically. It was only then that Santana realized her open guitar case had unexpectedly collected money. Mostly Canadian coin money, but money nonetheless. Enough for a sandwich or two, which was pretty awesome by her standards.

"Thanks for playing. You were both really good." The girl squeaked out shyly, biting the nail on her thumb nervously.

Santana was too busy enjoying the feeling of positive feedback to respond, which Rachel seemed to pick up on thankfully. "You're very welcome, thank you for the wonderful suggestion. It's been a while since Santana and I sang together…we used to be in the top show choir in all of the United States of America, you know?"

At that, the girl's eyes widened comically, her mouth gaping open for a moment before her head snapped to focus on Santana, then Rachel again, then her mother. "Th…those exist?! Mom, we need to find a school with one of those, I need room to develop my burgeoning talent and…"

"Easy, Grace. Take a deep breath… I'll do some research when I get home, sweetie." The mother noted with amusement, ruffling the young girl's hair much to Grace's annoyance.

Santana watched the interaction, the two of them reminding her a bit of her cousin's love for her child. It wasn't something Santana was certain she wanted for herself, she was only twenty six after all, but she wasn't opposed to the idea of having a kid of her own one day or whatever. She'd always envied the other kids and their loving, doting mothers growing up, and she wanted to know she could raise a child right. That she could do better than her mother.

"Seeing as I took a request from the munchkin, anything you want to hear while we're at it?" Santana asked the older woman, who merely shrugged.

"Something Canadian, I guess." The woman replied simply, an easy smile spreading across her face, which quickly grew as Rachel's excitement literally burst out of her.

"Santana… Santana, can…can I sing lead on this one? I have a fantastic song idea, and while it has been nearly a year since I last sang it, for an audition I managed to win mind you, I am confident that it would be fitting to the provided requirements." Rachel blurted out in one enthusiastic breath. Santana smiled and shook her head, having missed that unrestrained enthusiasm from her old friend. It was always a wild time when Rachel was in her bubble, but it usually turned out pretty special and memorable.

"I was actually going to ask that you take this one, because I want you to give these people an encore after your time here. Besides, I don't know much Canadian music, I'd probably just play something by The Tragically Hip, or Arcade Fire or whatever." Santana spoke, though it was kind of a lie. She'd practically buried herself in modern music when she started off, and got to be familiar with hundreds of Canadian acts. Secretly, she kept sending her demo tape to Arts & Crafts, but the record label never really called her back. It usually just resulted in added disappointment after each stretch of silence from the label, but it was her dream anyway, and she knew she had to have something to hang onto. She never expected to be signed to them, that just seemed unrealistic, but it was healthy to have a little bit of hope sometimes, no matter the odds. It was how Rachel made her way to the top.

Rachel clapped excitedly, and it was clear her and the young girl were sharing some crazy weird wavelength, both with their enthusiasm and long-winded rambling. "Excellent. Can you play the guitar for "To Love You More" by Celine Dion?" Rachel asked, positively chipper and hopeful, and while Santana thought it very well might be an impossible task, she just nodded. How could she turn Rachel down when she was so happy? THAT was an impossible task. She'd tried before, to no avail.

Santana bit her lip as she pondered how to play it, and how Rachel would sound singing it; she really wanted to hear the diva belt one of those crazy difficult ballads again, and she was handed the opportunity, however challenging. It was a song that was made for classical instruments, after all, not a single beaten up acoustic guitar. "You DO see I'm holding a single guitar in my hands, right? Not a cello or violin?" Santana asked as she chuckled at how ridiculously outperformed she'd be in a few moments. She hadn't expected Rachel's face to fall so fast at her remark. "I'll improvise… my guitar and some humming should help me meet the most minimal standards of the Rachel Berry musical rating system. Just warning you, because I know how you are about expecting perfection."

Rachel blushed, rolling her eyes. "I know that due to certain constraints, your ability to reproduce the song's backing music will be difficult, and you may not be perfect, but you're all I need right now." Rachel stated confidently, putting a curious bit of emphasis on that last bit. Santana just smiled and nodded at the compliment, deciding not to put too much thought into that quite yet.

"Alright, so I know all of you are probably Americans stuck here in this snowy wasteland…" Santana announced to the general area as she tuned her guitar to better accommodate the song. "But if any of you went and saw 'Mamma Mia!' here in the city that would desperately love to be the nation's capital, you might recognize the lady beside me who'll be gracing you with her presence. She's a much, much better singer than me, so adjust your standards accordingly." She joked as a fair bit of the people in their area turned and faced them. Santana smiled at the added attention, knowing Rachel was clutch under pressure. Or, she was years ago, and she couldn't imagine the diva lost that.

Rachel looked like she was about to interrupt, but Santana started playing, letting the diva know it was game time. Honestly, she was pretty happy with the approach she'd thought up on the fly; it was impossible to erase memories of how Rachel had trained for the Funny Girl audition with the song for weeks, and that had helped her know the song intimately. She eased into the song, but when Rachel's voice started up, she almost stumbled. It was one thing to hear her singing modest backing vocals, but when Rachel sang lead, she dominated people's attention. Even with Santana finger-picking like a pro, it only just accented the other woman's voice; not that Santana's skills were anything near a Stevie Ray Vaughan or Andres Segovia, but she knew her shit. She was just happy her shit was feeding into Rachel's performance, was all.

Her voice was just awe-inspiring, and while she really, really tried to multitask with humming and strumming, it was difficult with Rachel singing so perfectly and passionately. Midway through the chorus, Santana had to avert from the diva's gaze that had been locked onto her, unable to watch the girl fall deeper and deeper into her role. She knew Rachel's need to look at someone, imagined or real, while she sang, but she just couldn't keep it up without fucking the whole song over. So she just looked down, her heart thumping in her chest loudly as she played, as Rachel's immaculate voice transformed the song into her own creation. It was stunning.

Not just the vocal masterpiece Rachel was graciously and generously presenting to the passersby or the shocking emotional depth in every note the diva sang, but also what it was stirring up in her. Santana had never really been a target that a winged cherub with a bow and arrow would ever consider; no one had ever been infatuated with her. No one had ever fought for her, no one had ever sought out her love, no one had tried for her affection at all. Sure, Britt had been her best friend, and she enjoyed her company, but Britt sought out Santana for friendship, hugs, soulless sex and as a duck-watching companion more than she'd sought her out for romantic love. And more or less, the aforementioned things were expected from her when they'd taken things to the next level. Things were always easy with the blonde, but when Santana would hold off on her affection due to something or the other, Britt would just get what she needed elsewhere without any hesitation. She'd never been particularly special to Britt in that way, just useful, and that stung.

Truth was that the only person that had made her feel the least bit special was Berry, who sought out her friendship, who aggressively scheduled their free time so she could have her "Santana Time" after her classes and before Santana left for work each night. It was Berry who made her special sugar cookies just because she felt like putting a smile on Santana's face, and who argued with her that her body wouldn't get all gross if she ate more than two. That the girl had wanted to be around her, had wanted her in her life, and would hug her and speak to her so sincerely were huge. It was what she felt was the biggest culprit for why she'd started feeling shit for the pint-sized dynamo, and why she felt so guilty about it. For weeks, months, she doubted it was legitimate, that it was just a byproduct of feeling a sliver of what she'd wanted all her life from the other people that she cared about the most. It was only in the last month and a half of her stay with Kurt and Rachel that she came to know it was more than that, which was a big reason why she had vanished. Santana Lopez was a runner, and she more than solidified that reputation as soon as she'd left the apartment for good. At least she could admit it, right?

But hearing Rachel sing again, about something so personal and intimate, just brought all of those feelings back, crashing into her mind like a stormy November sea against a rocky shore. Except maybe not a rocky shore, because as seconds passed, she was feeling a lot less stable, at least emotionally. Because with how Rachel was singing, she kind of really did want to hope that Rachel could show her everything her heart needed to know, even if it was absolutely and utterly foolish to hope. It was too enticing having Rachel's gaze upon her, hearing a song traditionally sung for a male sung to her, talking about how Rachel would be better than some other girl for her, how she would STAY for her. Mostly because she was pretty sure Rachel WOULD be better than pretty much any other woman, even if that nugget of information didn't quite drown out the chorus of inner thoughts yelling that Rachel had left her six years ago. Was it such a crime that she let Rachel, singing about her wanting to find a way to get love back, distract her from those thoughts for a little while? Even if it was a pipe dream, even if it had always been a pipe dream, she just wanted to sit back and enjoy being sung to, pathetic or not. Santana had only ever been the target once before outside of glee, and that was when Rachel practiced some song from Wicked on her. Being focused on during a love song was something else entirely, even if the other woman didn't mean it at all.

The crowd around them, one which had at least doubled from what it was when Rachel had started singing, broke into applause as Rachel completed her powerful last note. Santana smiled as she fought her insecurities, only needing a quick moment before gazing up at Rachel, whose eyes were on her, a few stray tears rolling down her cheeks. She let herself be open for once, hoping her enormous smile would show the diva that she was absolutely thrilled about the song and about Rachel singing it, hoping it would show the diva how proud she was. Santana could see in the shorter woman's eyes that she needed a hug, so she put her guitar on the floor and stood up.

"Rachel Berry, everyone." She said proudly, before embracing the woman in a hug, one that Rachel reciprocated fiercely. The song had always worked her up, and those weeks before the final callback audition had been a huge emotional whirlwind full of hugs and tears and everything, and she was just as glad to be able to help then as she was in the airport hallway. Santana knew that Rachel got into her roles immensely quickly, which meant that the girl likely lived out her past heartbroken moments countless times while rehearsing; it wasn't something she envied the girl for, but it did make her respect the shit out of her. And she supposed it had caused a number of worried thoughts and the odd vague, argument with the diva over that stuff. She just didn't want Rachel hurting, even if it meant she wouldn't get as deep into some roles.

Santana let go after a few moments and rested her forehead against Rachel's, somewhat thankful the diva was wearing heels and she wasn't, putting them on a level playing field. "You're amazing, Rach." She whispered, wiping the tears from the girl's face with the pad of her thumb.

"Santana…" Rachel started as Santana pulled back, the diva looking at her strangely; Santana kind of really wanted to say it was an adoring expression, but it was really hard to say, and she didn't feel like getting her hopes thrashed by reality so quickly. She quirked an eyebrow at the diva, wordlessly requesting for her to continue. She watched Rachel open her mouth to speak, but then the diva composed herself for a moment, giving Santana a shy smile. "Thank you. For…for letting me sing."

She shrugged, wondering why that was so hard to say, but she supposed that the song had been tremendously emotional, and Rachel was still clearly working through it. "No worries, Berry. Any time." She answered, just pleased that they were both seemingly in a nice happy bubble. Santana knew she didn't want to leave it, and knew Rachel was clearly feeling a similar vibe. It reminded her of glee club and their silly sing-alongs in the apartment; it was a really nice feeling to have that joy and energy back. It reminded her of what she'd once had, and perhaps what she could have again, given the right motivation, luck, and a push from the right person.

* * *

 

Rachel Berry was a coward. Well, only a little bit of one, if she were to be honest, but still a coward. When the option to sing a Canadian song had been brought up, she knew exactly what song she had needed to sing. It wasn't a matter of want at that point; she needed to express herself, to work out her emotions, to see if she could really sing that song and feel it when singing to Santana.

And when she held the other woman's gaze for the first two verses and the first half of the chorus, she felt a lot of things. Mostly, sincerity; Rachel wanted Santana back. She wanted her hugs, she wanted to be her ex-roommate's anchor again, she wanted to be that person Santana ditched possible one-night stands for just to watch movies and hang out, just like they used to. She wanted to stay for the woman, she wanted to love her, if it came to that. She'd been so close when they were in their Bushwick apartment, and while it was something that scared and terrified her then, she was much stronger at that moment in the airport. She wanted Santana to believe that she could find happiness with her, because as she sang, she wasn't sure she'd ever been so certain of it; all the happy memories of their relatively brief time together had flashed through her mind, and she'd gained a sort of clarity that had been so immense that she couldn't help but tear up. Yet, it was the adoring, hopeful look in Santana's eyes that had caused the first tear to fall. It was a look that she'd seen so many times before, so many years ago; one that she must have refused to acknowledge emotionally, because all she could see in those eyes was how much the guitarist felt for her. If she wasn't Rachel Barbra Berry and didn't have excellent breath control, it would have taken her breath away. Instead, she merely struggled from the moment she noticed that expression until the end of the song.

So even when Santana looked away, blushing as she determinedly played along, surprisingly skillfully in her eyes, Rachel couldn't help but feel over the moon. And when Santana immediately understood that she needed a hug after such an emotional performance, she literally thought she'd drift away on cloud nine. It just felt right. And when Santana complimented her so earnestly, and so close up that if Rachel had leaned forward slightly, she could have taken those soft lips with her own, her thoughts were scattered to the winds of the airport's active heating system. And she wanted to blame her missed opportunity to confess her feelings right then and there on the fact that Santana had her all flustered, but she knew in her heart that she was scared of rejection, just like she once was back in Bushwick.

It still didn't dim her happiness, even hours later in the dark of the evening, as the both of them had continued to sing and enjoy each other's company and talents. Rachel hadn't sung for so long in one sitting before, but her voice didn't seem to be complaining due to her insisting on being properly hydrated; the young girl, Grace, would run off between songs occasionally with money from the guitar case to buy water for them. She was a cute little thing who reminded Rachel of herself. The crowd that had migrated to their hall certainly wasn't complaining either, aside from the odd grump who wasn't happy that they'd spent the past hour and a half singing solely Christmas music.

Every once in a while, Santana would stop playing and answer questions, take requests, or just chat a bit with the people around her. Rachel couldn't imagine the raven-haired beauty not being popular and well liked at her shows, given how casual and carefree the woman was with everyone. It was so difficult to imagine a crowd of patrons unwilling to engage with her on any level. It was baffling!

"I was born in a small town back in Ohio, and I went to high school with Rachel. We both went to New York when we graduated… the city won us over in junior year. She went to NYADA to be the next Broadway star and I worked at bars to pay my way while I figured shit out." Santana spoke, answering the same question for the third time that day, though always a slightly different way, yet with the same sincerity.

"So you two have been attached at the hip since?" One of the randoms around them asked, Rachel unsure who it was, as her focus was too entirely fixed on Santana to see.

"Nah, we split shortly after we moved there, but it's nice to know that half a dozen years later I can still sit down and jam songs out with her like old times." Santana noted happily, sparing her a soft glance before looking over to the young girl. Surprisingly, Santana had seemed rather enamored with Grace, and had often encouraged her to sing with them when she knew the words. The girl, of course, was ecstatic the whole time. It was nice to see Santana get a bit of an ego-boost, especially after hearing about her struggles. "And it's nice to see we have a successor in line to capture a nationals trophy in glee."

Rachel knew the girl would probably do quite well in a glee club, as Grace's voice was strong for her age. Perhaps not as strong as her own was back then, but certainly technically sound. "Santana, a single person can't win a nationals trophy. Not that I don't believe she'll leave high school without accolades, she'll simply have to recruit a strong supporting cast." She added at the end, not wanting the girl to feel down about it, but she didn't want Santana filling her head with false hope. She recalled how much her ego had harmed the glee club throughout highschool.

"Come on Rach, if she's anything like you…and she kind of is…she'll pull a team together like you did and come out on top." Santana scoffed, rolling her eyes, taking a moment to wink at the young girl, who seemed to be taking the criticism well. Rachel blushed at the compliment; she'd always enjoyed it when people pointed out her efforts to make glee successful back in their high school days. It gave her a stronger sense of accomplishment, like she hadn't quite failed at every level of her life.

"Point taken." She conceded, drawing a smug grin from the other woman. Rachel checked her phone briefly, noticing it was quarter after seven, and that they hadn't eaten anything substantial since breakfast, and she was admittedly feeling peckish. She nudged the other woman, who was scrolling through the playlist on her iPod for inspiration. "San? Are you hungry?"

Santana paused, her brow furrowing for a moment, before turning to Rachel with an expression like she'd just discovered gravity. "I'm starving actually. Wow." The woman said, looking down at her guitar with a puzzled expression. "My stomach is all over the place right now…how did I not notice that?"

Rachel giggled at the woman's obliviousness and pulled Santana to her feet. She looked over the crowd of people around them, some talking amongst themselves, some looking bored and checking their phones, some looking expectantly at them. Rachel cleared her throat and waved her hands, a gesture Santana broke out into laughter over. She was pretty sure it wasn't THAT funny or silly.

"Excuse me, I want to thank you all for spending time with us today. We haven't eaten since about nine this morning, so we're going to grab a bite to eat. We aren't exactly an official act, but when we return, we might still perform if we feel up to it. Either way, thank you again." She spoke cheerfully, many of the people nodding and walking off.

"Hey, sorry to bother you two, but could you guys watch our luggage while we're out? It's hard to haul that stuff all over the airport on an empty stomach, especially with how packed this place is and all." She heard Santana ask the mother and daughter combo. They gladly accepted the request and Rachel thanked them, before pulling Santana through the airport, eyes peeled for a decent place to eat.

Santana halted abruptly a few minutes later, in the middle of a large hall. "Wait…I have to pee."

Rachel let a loud laugh slip out, rolling her eyes at the taller woman. "I see you've kept your famous tact, Santana. It's nice to know you haven't lost that heartwarming trait." She spoke sarcastically, though she wasn't exactly lying. Sure, Santana's odd wit, bevy of insults and strange obliviousness to awkwardness could at times be trying, but it managed to be endearing and surprisingly charming at times. Rachel never knew exactly what to expect with Santana, and she was glad to see that part of her endured the past years.

* * *

 

Santana was pleased as shit to have a wonderful amount of food in her stomach. Being a musician, a part time barista and a part time dancer didn't leave her with a hell of a lot of money. She hadn't been lying to Rachel about having single meal days, so it was kind of awesome to have earned enough money to eat a nice big meal. That she earned it simply by having fun and entertaining herself and others gave her a nice, happy feeling. It had been good, playing to a relatively small crowd like they had, especially since they were interested. It was even better with her old friend by her side through it all.

More than anything, it was a great relief to know the two of them still sounded all kinds of awesome together. Ever since their duet on West Side Story, Santana had looked forward to the rare opportunities to sing with the brunette, something she wished she'd done earlier in high school. In truth, she kind of wished they had the room in their hallway to perform 'So Emotional', but it just didn't seem to be in the cards. Still, it was nice to have run into Rachel; having someone other than her cousin to talk to across the past four or five years was a rare occurrence, and she was just trying to enjoy it while it lasted.

The pair eventually found themselves back in their usual spot, Santana slumping down against the wall instead of on the seats. She was surprised to find Rachel sitting quietly beside her on the floor, rather close to her if she were to make a judgment on the distance. _Well, it IS getting a little chilly in here…_

A clearing throat brought Santana's attention over to the two across from them, still sitting against the median. The mother gave a brief wave, which Santana returned before dragging hers and Rachel's luggage back to their side. She spotted a brief glowing, excited smile on Grace's face before her mother mussed up the girl's hair.

"Grace, they played for hours and hours…you know as well as I that singing puts a lot of strain on the body." The girl's mother noted chidingly, and Grace gave possibly the third fiercest pout Santana had ever witnessed, obviously behind Brittany and Rachel's magnificently manipulative ones. Her mother, however, seemed entirely unaffected, thankfully; Santana's throat was a bit sore, and she was looking forward to a bit of rest. "If we're still here tomorrow, and if you ask nicely, I'm sure they could sing another song or two."

Grace just looked entirely crestfallen at the situation, much like how Rachel had when they once took a road trip back to Lima and the diva's request for a nine hour Barbra Streisand music marathon was denied. "I wish I could keep singing like my cyborg friend here…" Santana noted with a smile, pointing a thumb at Rachel, whose eyes were closed, the diva's ears plugged with headphones. "She can sing for hours without end. I'm only human, though, and I didn't really prep for that amount of singing, so I'm a bit sore. But yeah, if you two are here tomorrow and we're here, we can sing a bit more, no worries."

"Thanks for playing so long for us. It was a lot of fun!" the girl said, her eyes bright with enthusiasm. Santana couldn't help but grin at how much the girl reminded her of a young Rachel Berry, only taller. Which was kind of amusing in and of itself.

"It was, wasn't it?" she asked openly, her eyes glancing over at the diva yet again before moving to Grace's mother. "And thank you both for being the best audience I could ask for."

"I'm just happy that you made my daughter happy. She, as you can probably tell, is very much into music as well…whenever she's not singing, she's listening to music." The mother stated warmly, looking lovingly at her daughter, who just blushed a little.

Santana nodded and rested back against her coat-covered luggage. "Sounds exactly like my friend. You couldn't get her to stop singing. Literally, on bus rides to sectionals and regionals, she'd be singing or practicing scales even when people were yelling at her to be quiet, and the only time she'd stop was when she was resting her voice for performances, while listening to Barbra Streisand on her iPod or whatever." She said as memories of their glee outings flashed through her mind. Sure, Rachel had been annoying and overbearing at times, but it was all a little bit endearing and cute too.

"Could I ever be as good of a singer as her?" Grace asked quietly, biting her lip in anxiety, the girl's eyes darting between Rachel and Santana.

Santana was startled by the question, and had to take a few moments to honestly think about it. Memories of all that Rachel did to get what talent she had came to her mind, as well as all the memories of the other gleeks, and finally, her own work with her pursuits as a singer. She knew that everyone brought something to the table when it came to their voice, and as long as they brought their A game, they really couldn't do much wrong.

"I think that…if you work hard at it, if you love what you do, if you believe in yourself…then you can be as special as Rachel is at singing. I wouldn't say as good as or better, necessarily, because…well, everyone has a unique voice that's worth hearing. If you love what you do, if you put your heart into what you sing, then who's to say who's voice is better than anyone else's? Music…it's art, it's passion made audible, and if you can harness that, you'll be something amazing." She stated, trying not to stumble over her words as they came to her. She saw Grace blush and nod, and she was glad she'd appeased the girl; Santana hoped her words were true.

It was what she felt, either way; not everyone had Rachel's technical brilliance, but if everyone sounded like the diva, music would be a little boring, and Rachel's voice wouldn't be so special. And while Santana knew her own voice wasn't incredible or spectacular, it was what kept her afloat; despite everything else in her life falling apart, music had been a stable presence in her life. It kept her passionate, even if she hadn't seen the success that she would have liked. Santana just clutched onto the hope that Rachel would be successful, wanting to know that dreams could come true. She wasn't sure what she could do to help the diva in her pursuits, but she knew that she wanted to do what she could to get her where she deserved to be. She didn't want to leave the diva when they got out of there. Last time, she thought leaving would help the brunette reach her potential faster, would help her reach her dreams, but it hadn't seemed to help at all. Not that she felt her presence had a monumental impact on the diva, but she knew in the past that she'd helped. Santana just wanted to be someone Rachel could rely on to relieve her stress again, even if the odds were good that the diva would be out of her life minutes after they landed in New York.

"Tomorrow, can you sing one of your own songs?" Grace asked excitedly and wide-eyed, making Santana wonder if she was like Rachel in that she only stopped buzzing around energetically when focused on music or when sleeping. Again, she was taken by surprise, sitting there blinking at the girl as her mind tried to formulate a response.

"Um…how do you know I'm actually a musician? I could just be a girl who likes singing karaoke, and playing guitar." Santana noted apprehensively, prompting the girl to lift up her phone, showing Santana's website.

She shook her head and sighed, not sure whether to be amused over the fact that the girl was just as much of a research hound as Rachel, apparently. Her website got maybe ten hits a month, not including search engine bots or whatever. "Maybe." She stated as she shrugged, giving the girl an apologetic look. "It's like reading a book report in front of class, to give you an analogy, except they're the ones grading you, deciding if you pass or fail. And you're not the most popular kid around, and no one's read the book you chose except for you. It's…it's easier to sing songs you know that people like, than it is to show off the stuff that you put your heart and soul into, because no one knows it. You don't have the radio's high rotation on your side, you don't have nostalgia to build on, just your own words and the hope that the audience will have a good enough attention span to listen, and the musical tastes to enjoy it. It's riskier."

"But you won't know if we'll like it if you don't try." The girl stated with a megawatt smile, and Santana really couldn't retort that she HAD tried already, countless times, with no success.

"I might take the opportunity if it's here tomorrow." Santana stated, deciding that it's as much as she could commit to at the moment. Grace just smiled, and her mother rolled her eyes at her daughter's behavior and ability to rope people into doing things.

Grace's mom checked her phone momentarily and then got to her feet. "Gracie, the airport workers are setting up cots in the waiting room soon. If we're lucky, we can grab one." The woman said, and after a parting wave, the two ladies were off to find a more comfortable sleeping area than the floor. Santana was feeling the pull of sleep at the edges of her mind, but knew she could stay awake a bit longer. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Rachel re-positioning herself to get comfier, so she knew the diva was probably close to flaming out as well.

 _I wonder how long she'll be awake for? I should probably ask…_ she mused as she scooted over toward the diva, figuring it was long past the woman's bedtime. But nothing was really all that normal, what with them being stuck in a Canadian airport just a few short hours from Christmas Eve.


	4. Chapter 4

Rachel couldn't help but feel a little bit guilty after sitting there, pretending to listen to music while she eavesdropped on Santana's conversation. She had, initially, been listening to music, but the start of their conversation filtered through, and she found herself lowering the volume so she could listen in. She was, after all, a curious individual. From the way that Santana glanced at her, it had seemed that the woman hadn't planned on her hearing, but Rachel was glad she had; it was easy to see past her partially sincere message to the festering insecurities Santana had over her own work.

Insecurity was something Rachel was very familiar with. Even setting aside her self-image issues, she had tirelessly practiced her vocals throughout the years because it was what she knew would make up for everything else that she lacked in, which meant she could be no worse than perfect. Everything she dreamed of relied on her voice, and if she wasn't the best at it, she'd only be as good as her worst qualities. At least, that's how she understood life as a twenty-something, far distanced from her bright-eyed naïveté she owned in her teens; not that the bubbly, optimistic girl wasn't still a part of her, she just couldn't let that part of herself out as often. At least, not until she'd reached her own dreams, so she understood Santana's restraint in singing her own work. It was a leap, and one that could end in failure, raised noses and eyebrows, alongside grimaces. Rachel had been to open-mic shows before; she'd experienced many sub-par singer-songwriters and had seen such reactions. Heck, she'd made such expressions before.

But she knew Santana's voice well and it was about as made for radio as anyone's. On top of that, she knew the girl was creative; Rachel had seen the Santana's lyrics, and even aside from that one song she'd sneaked a peek on, the rest seemed to be rather well written, with a visible flow. It simply didn't seem that her friend could disappoint the crowd, or especially the little girl that they'd won over in the span of a few hours. All Rachel knew was that she had to pry a little bit, test the waters to make her feel a bit better about the prospect, because as much as she did want to hear Santana's work, she wanted Santana to want to sing her own work more.

Rachel slipped off her IEMs a minute or so after the conversation, hoping her action was rather inconspicuous, and looked over to Santana, whose eyes were gently shut. She smiled at the faint upward curl of the other woman's lips, glad to see she was still in a good mood. "Do you want to find a better place to sleep, or should we just camp out here?" she asked softly, stifling a yawn. All that singing hadn't done much to wear out her voice, but she was tired anyway, especially after her early morning start.

Santana gave a simple shrug and leaned a little further back against her luggage; the fact that the woman hadn't opened her eyes either meant she was upset or tired, and Rachel was betting on the latter being accurate. "Here's good." Santana replied with a growing, content smile.

Now that their sleeping quarters had been decided, Rachel felt that it would be an alright time to push the envelope a little bit, in regards to Santana's previous conversation. "Did I tell you I sing at a lounge?" she asked as innocently and offhandedly as she could manage. "I mean, it's only when I'm in town, and it's part time, but it pays the bills when stage work gets few and far between."

Santana looked at her with a fair bit of confusion, seemingly mind-boggled by the statement. Rachel did suppose that she could have allowed for a smoother lead-in, but the slow smile on Santana's face made her feel like maybe it hadn't been necessary. "I bet you're really great at it." The woman noted warmly, her eyes darting upward for a moment as she slipped into her thoughts. "Probably good practice for your career, too."

"Have you ever tried something like that?" Rachel asked, hoping she wasn't coming off as too obviously concerned; Santana had seemed skittish when it came to discussing her means of making a living, and Rachel just wanted to try and help her know there were options out there for people with voices like hers. "Your smoky, bluesy voice could really work that sort of scene."

"I've tried some of that kind of stuff, but…well, I haven't been able to lock down a gig or anything yet. I've been doing, um…other things." Santana said, her voice trailing off as she mumbled the last two words.

Rachel couldn't help but be a little worried at the darkened expression on her friend's face, even though it didn't last long. It wasn't a look she liked gracing Santana's features. She moved to place a hand over one of Santana's, but it immediately slipped away from hers, the other woman resting her hands in her lap instead as she averted her gaze. "Just don't judge me, okay?"

Rachel nodded as calmly as she could manage, fear bubbling in her gut over Santana's antsy, defensive behavior. "I understand the starving artist stereotype well, Santana. I promise that whatever you have to say won't change how I see you."

Her words seemed to calm the taller woman, who slumped forward a bit and let out a heavy sigh, showing a weariness that Santana had hid from her throughout most of the day. "I work between ten and twenty hours a week at a small coffee-shop…it's nice, and I get tips, but it doesn't really pay enough to cover rent and utilities or anything, you know? And I do open-mic nights a lot, and that fills up a bunch of my spare time, so I don't end up with much of an opportunity to make more money." Santana rambled out flatly; Rachel knew the woman had never worn her heart on her sleeve, but it was pretty clear that she was trying to distance herself emotionally from what she was saying, and that only made her worry more, and wish she could at least hold the other woman's hand. "So I…I work at this club, two or three nights a week, and that helps make up the difference, pays for food…helps with tour costs."

"What club is it?" Rachel asked, her voice betraying her, letting out more emotion into those three words than she'd intended, and Santana's immediate reaction was something she probably deserved. The girl's facial features were steely, warning her against any such outbursts, but her eyes were pleading her not to make a big thing about it. So Rachel took a few breaths and stilled her emotions as best she could. She couldn't help that she was an emotional person, Santana knew that quite well.

"It doesn't matter, okay? You won't ever go there, and that's for the best. It…" Santana started hesitantly, and Rachel could tell she was doing an immensely poor job at steeling her emotions, and as seeming unaffected, if Santana's expression was anything to go by. "Hey, it's okay, alright? It's just dancing and…and no one's allowed to touch, they make sure of that. And it's just temporary, until I get on my feet."

She couldn't help but feel guilty. Sure, it seemed a bit self-absorbed to think that one misguided and malicious statement she'd made in high school sent Santana down that sort of path, but she couldn't shake the feeling that if not for her, the girl could have made money in other ways. Less potentially exploitative ways, less potentially dangerous ways. She knew Santana's self esteem wasn't all that sturdy, and during their time together, the woman had taken jobs that played off of her body; she just didn't want Santana to think that was all she was good for. She didn't want Santana to do anything like that, working a job that would only play on her insecurities.

Rachel must not have realized she was stewing on Santana's words, because she only had time to see a brief eye-roll before she was being abruptly pulled out of her thoughts and into a comforting hug. It really did make her feel better about it all, as silly as that was. "I get a few dollars from open-mic night too…and I need them to spread my own material, okay?" Santana whispered, her breath soft and hot on Rachel's ears, only causing her to further melt into the embrace as she nodded. "I can't sing in clubs because I'd be singing covers all night…it won't help my career."

Again, Rachel just nodded, nearly all she could really work up the energy to do as she rested in Santana's arms. "I just wish you were happier." She stated, knowing Santana wasn't content with being a barista or an exotic dancer. That she was more than a little ashamed. Rachel wasn't content about the taller woman's jobs either; not that either were poor professions, necessarily. She just wanted the best for Santana, and her friend's dreams didn't rest in either of those occupations. "What will you do when you get back to New York?"

She felt Santana shrug against her, and couldn't help but enjoy the familiarity of the gesture. Santana shrugged at everything. It was her thing, but the woman had different shrugs for different emotions and moods; while Rachel could only read into it as Santana being confused, that just meant that she could use some good old fashioned Rachel Berry guidance. "Not sure. Probably the same shit I've been doing lately, but maybe I should take a break from that. Find a new job…find something better. Maybe I just need a new direction, pun intended."

Rachel found the strength in her soul to pull away from the woman, needing to talk face-to-face with Santana, because she wasn't about to let her give up quite yet. "When we were playing earlier? I'm not sure I've ever seen you so happy. Maybe when we won nationals, but that's it…" Rachel stated fervently, cheering internally at the faint blush on Santana's cheeks, even if the woman averted her gaze. "That's worth holding onto, Santana. It's what gets you by in the meantime that needs to change, and I'll help…if you want me to."

Santana bit into her lovely lower lip a little, and Rachel had to force herself not to stare, especially as it spread into a rare shy smile. "Maybe…" the woman said softly, before yawning, her hand fortunately blocking the alluring view, allowing Rachel to move her gaze to anywhere else."You tired too?"

She nodded and slid over beside Santana, resting for a moment against the luggage as well. "I'll probably go to sleep soon, but I want to do one last thing before that."

Santana's eyebrow quirked up at her in curiosity, and she knew she had her hooked. "And what would that be? It's not like there's a lot to do around here." Her friend stated, clearly going over a scattered, unorganized list of things in her head that could be done in an airport late at night.

Rachel gave the inquisitive woman an impish smile as she grabbed her bag of hygiene products. "Well, I tend to have some entertainment during my nightly hygiene regimen, so I want to download your album to my phone and listen to it while I exfoliate, clean and moisturize."

She held back her snickering as Santana turned away, groaning dramatically at the suggestion, even if that light blush from before had shifted into a darker rosy shade. "Ugh, it's kind of rough, but…if you REALLY want to, you can listen for free or whatever."

Rachel, however, had already opened the woman's website on her phone, and was inputting her credit card information to purchase the album. "Nonsense, paying ten dollars for an album isn't much of a financial risk, and music is always something I'm willing to take a risk on." She stated confidently, earning a huff from the woman beside her.

Without further word, Rachel gathered her supplies and stood up, happy to see that the album was downloading quickly. With a wave, she parted company with Santana and made her way to the nearest washroom. By the time she found one with a reasonable amount of people inside, the album was on her phone and queued up, ready for playback, which she started as soon as she began cleaning her face.

Honestly, she'd expected something entirely different. Rachel had thought that Santana would have gone for a Billie Holliday sort of vibe, Amy Winehouse or even something along the lines of Grace Potter & the Nocturnals, but what she got was very different. And it was a big shock.

What she heard, for the duration of the album, was this dreamy pop/rock sounding music that was entirely intriguing. If she'd been primed with the information beforehand, she couldn't have imagined taking it seriously, because it wasn't something that immediately came to mind with Santana's voice, but the result was a silky smooth, layered album without much weakness, despite the production being obviously of a lower quality. Rachel couldn't imagine Santana had the money to pay for major studio time or anything, but the production value sort of added character to it all, made it seem dreamier and more intimate. The only complaint she could muster was that it lacked a track or two that really showed off Santana's vocal power; even still, so many of the songs revealed that the woman had really worked on her control and range, and that she had the creativity to play with that talent. Rachel couldn't help but be reminded a little of Leslie Feist, which, again, was entirely unexpected. It made for a good performance of her vocal abilities, she just wished that some of that fiery power from their teenage years was on the album. Rachel still got chills just thinking about the woman's part in the Adele mash-up during senior year. She missed that glorious fire and the energy she felt whenever Santana embraced it.

Yet, when the album finished with this surprisingly intimate acoustic number that Rachel honestly didn't think Santana had in her, she couldn't help but be wholly satisfied. Yet, she also couldn't help but be confused. Sure, she understood that the music Santana had recorded wasn't all ideal for open-mic nights with a single acoustic guitar, but with even a little bit of whatever technology she used to fill out the tracks, it would have been close enough to what was recorded. And the recorded material was very much worth listening to.

When she'd left to do her nightly ritual, she'd been entirely aware that Santana was incredibly anxious, so it wasn't a surprise that the woman was scribbling away on her notepad yet again. Rachel grinned excitedly as she approached, a plan forming in her mind.

* * *

 

Santana honestly wasn't sure what to do or say when Rachel got back, it was something she struggled with over the three quarters of an hour that Berry was gone. When she spotted her approaching at the last second, she realized she was nowhere near having any response ready. Santana knew how critical Rachel was when it came to music; it was something the diva always took incredibly seriously. Glee club had borne the brunt of her criticisms and corrections for years, usually on breath control, pitch and whatnot, with the smaller girl often forcing them into exercises to improve their technique. Sure, it had all been helpful, but also damn annoying, and Rachel would often tear people apart if she was given the opportunity for 'honest critique'. She always held everyone else to her own vocal standards, so no one ever matched up, and it was a struggle just to be what the diva probably considered adequate. Santana knew that Rachel was just pushing them so hard because she knew they all could take it, that they had great potential, but it had still sucked. She'd spent many a depressing night alone in her room during her high school years, pushing aside her dreams of singing for a living, so it had been entirely confusing that Rachel, of all people, had pushed her back into her dream later on in New York.

Which was why she wasn't entirely freaking out, but she knew the diva would be honest, and that Rachel's version of honesty often hurt when it came. So Santana braced herself mentally before she even considered speaking a word. "So…how was it?" she asked, trying to hide the fact that she was nervous as hell.

She saw Rachel smile, and wanted to feel better, but the words that spilled from her lips reminded her of why she trusted her gut, and not the girl's disarming grin. "Well, my routine was unimpeded by the sleepy masses, although it was rather crowded in the washrooms, and I'm sure this older lady kept asking me for something, but I have a set routine and time limit, and I wasn't about to abandon it. And it was difficult coping with the fact that I'm missing some pivotal products that I had sadly run out of here, and couldn't find adequate replacements for, but I suppose that wasn't such a terrible issue." The diva rambled nonchalantly, Santana biting her cheek as she glared at the brunette; there was no way in hell that Rachel could have imagined she'd been interested in her routine. In fact, she recalled a time when she specifically told Rachel to never inform her of her routine again.

And, of course, Rachel burst out into laughter as soon as their gazes met, the woman falling into uncontrollable gales of loud, over-done amusement. Seriously, it wasn't that funny. It was only natural to freak out a bit, so she gave Rachel a jab to her shoulder to show her that the rant was far from amusing. Even if she would have done the same if Rachel was in her shoes. "Jerk." She muttered, returning to her notepad, because at least it wouldn't make fun of her, although it didn't have the capacity to, so she supposed it didn't really count for much.

"You…you just looked so nervous, I couldn't help but play around with you a bit." Rachel said between laughs, her intensity at least starting to die down, as the diva wiped tears of amusement away. "But seriously, it was surprising. I wasn't expecting that musical direction, but you made it work."

Santana noted the pause in the air after the woman's statement, knowing that Rachel had a lot more to say than those few words. "And?"

The diva let out a sigh and gave her an apologetic look, and Santana braced herself for impact. She'd thought all the thoughts and criticism already, anyway. She could take it. If it was Rachel, she knew it would at least be honest and helpful, so she'd take it. "The only real downside was that it lacked that fiery delivery that always instilled your performances with so much passion…the album has passion, but it's more of a subtle, natural passion, and while that fits your sound better, I can't help but feel you're capable of giving more fire. I kind of missed your vocal power, even if I know it may not have been the best album, thematically, to showcase it. It was honestly really soothing and intriguing…I can't really say much else without seeing you perform it live to discern if you need work on your breathing or anything, but as is, as an album, it's strong. I really liked it."

Santana didn't know exactly how to respond to that; she had expected a long list of criticisms, of tips to improve her music, but she'd mostly been given compliments. It was weird. She'd gone months without much of any positive feedback on the album, and it hadn't seemed very popular among the places she played, but Rachel liked it, so that meant it had to be good. Rachel had an amazing ear for quality, and if something was good, she would admit it even if it wasn't to her tastes. So she was really confused, and could only really shrug at her friend's words. "I, uh…I'll have a lot more power in the next album, I guess. I've almost got enough good ones to make a more bluesy rock-oriented album."

"Is the song you've been writing going to be on it?" The diva asked, and Santana froze a bit, paranoid that her friend may have seen it. She didn't really like presenting anything of hers until it was polished and perfect, or perfect according to what she wanted it to be. But then she realized that she'd been writing a lot throughout the day, and it was only fair to assume she was writing new material, so she let herself relax.

"It could be, maybe, if I like it enough. Right now it's just there for venting purposes, and it's kind of closer to punk-rock than anything, but…it might, if I can make it fit the album's sound." She answered with another shrug. Honestly, she hadn't considered putting it on an album; Santana had written a lot of songs, only a handful considered for recording because she never felt confident just putting herself out there. The closing track on her album was the only one she'd felt comfortable with recording and playing live, but there were dozens of tracks laying on her computer that hadn't seen production. Despite committing to the career, she still found it really hard to be vulnerable in front of others. The last time she'd done it, she'd wound up at her apartment, just shaking for the rest of the night. Just like in glee, she always felt she needed someone there supporting her, either on stage or in the audience, to just help her through it. To let her know she wasn't making a fool of herself.

She felt brave enough to glance over at Rachel, finding wide, hopeful brown eyes. "Will…will you play it for me someday?" the brunette asked, biting her pouting lower lip, and there was no way she could just say no. It wasn't fair. Santana wanted to be frustrated at how Berry was totally guilt-tripping her into it with her pout, but all she could really do is wonder if the girl's eyes had always been so undeniably beautiful. It was something to think about, for sure. Like, when she wasn't staring into the girl's deep, mocha brown eyes. Because seriously, she wasn't a creeper, and she could control herself.

"When it's ready…sure, whatever." She mumbled, and Rachel seemed incredibly pleased with that answer as the diva pulled out two blankets from her luggage, that was apparently an endless pit. Seriously, Santana couldn't help but wonder how so much was packed into such a tiny space. Leave it to Rachel Berry to buck the laws of physics.

Santana took one of the blankets Rachel handed to her and looked at the pink monstrosity questioningly. She'd recalled it from her time in the apartment; it was the one Rachel would use when she would watch a sad movie, when she was feeling under the weather, but not particularly sick, or when she was just in the mood for some cool weather snuggling. Rachel must have taken her momentary pause as a sign of confusion, though, because she noticed the girl hold her own up.

"This is a blanket, Santana. Step one, is you wrap it around yourself, or cover your body to a comfortable degree. Step two, you let it keep you warm, and you sleep." The diva stated impishly, and Santana could only shake her head at the absurdity.

"I know what a blanket is, thanks." She stated, watching the brunette shift around their luggage for some inexplicable reason, before the diva pulled out a pillow. _Seriously, how does all that fit into that little piece of luggage?!_

Rachel's plan, though, eventually started to make sense as soon as she laid down her and Santana's coats in this self-made nook between their luggage and the wall. She watched at the woman stretched, even though Santana honestly really tried not to look. She definitely appreciated all sorts of women's bodies, and Rachel had a damn fine one, which she could say objectively as the brunette nestled into her little spot, having a clear view of the diva's curves, even hidden under slightly loose clothing.

Santana looked around, wondering where she'd set up with her single blanket, now that Rachel had thieved her coat at a temporary mattress. Just as she started moving toward the seats, deciding that her legs might be able to fit through the spaces under the armrests, she heard a sleepy Rachel Berry call out to her. "Saaaaaan." The diva's voice was slightly disgruntled, and quite a bit slurred from pre-sleep, and Santana couldn't help but look over at her friend, who was squinting at her, only her head visible with the blanket over her. On top of that, Rachel's pout was once again in full force, and that just didn't make sense. No one that sleepy should wield such power. "Come on, stop fooling around. I want to go to sleep."

Santana felt her eyebrows rise at the remark, glad that Rachel was content to roll onto her side and huff in displeasure instead of further giving her the full-pout treatment. "You…want me to sleep in there with you?" she asked cautiously, because while it would be kind of preferable to any other sleeping situation in sight, she didn't really want to assume anything.

"Duh." The tiny diva grumbled, her eyes staring half-lidded again at Santana. It was clear that Rachel was really close to sleep, and clearly wanted Santana to get in and comfortable, so she wouldn't be disrupted.

She just cocked her head and walked over to the little nook, peeling off her shoes before slipping in right beside Berry; it was a snug fit, but it worked, and with both of their blankets covering them, and their coats beneath them, it would probably be toasty. Which was awesome, considering it was winter, and she was used to her cold bedroom and her thin sheets. Even being the one closest to the wall wasn't bad, with Rachel's body heat emanating around her. In short, she wasn't about to complain at all.

But then she felt Rachel 's body shifting against her front, and again she held a mixture of confusion and happiness, because it was kind of nice to sleep with someone again, even if it was in an airport surrounded by strangers, with an old friend. It had been a long time; seriously, it had been years since she'd just slept with someone, with no sex involved, and even THAT was a rare occurrence.

Hesitantly, she wrapped her arms around the diva nestled against her; she couldn't suppress her smile soon afterward as Rachel held her hands in place with her own. Santana, throughout the day, had expected the delay to last through the night, but she hadn't expected access to a pillow, a blanket, and a warm body. She was kinda thrilled to have them, even if it was just for one night. It was good to have Rachel back, even if it was for one night; Santana couldn't help but feel, as she dozed off, that her horrible day had turned out pretty great in the end.

* * *

 

Rachel woke to a dimly lit hallway, and was thankful that the airport officials had lowered the lighting, considering they were all snowed in, and no one had anywhere to go in the wee hours of the night. They'd gone to bed around ten in the evening, Rachel recalled, perhaps quarter after, so her usual seven hours of sleep would have ensured that it was still rather early. She kind of wanted to check her phone, but it was in her luggage, and that would have meant leaving her spot under the blankets with Santana; she felt entirely cozy, held snugly against the taller woman's body, warm steady breaths ghosting on her neck. It was really, really nice. Rachel hadn't woken like that in a long time, and didn't want to waste such a rare opportunity.

She couldn't help but smile sleepily and recall all the times that she and Santana had woken up on the couch together, back when they'd lived in the same apartment. It was just as nice then as it was in the airport, and she just wished she'd known then what she knew now. She wasn't blind; thinking back, she knew that Santana had some level of attraction to her. Rachel had seen the girl stare at her one or two times when she'd scurried from the bathroom to her 'bedroom' in just a towel. Of course, back then, she chalked it up to Santana just trying to get a rise out of her by giving her a once over but after a year or two of thinking, it became clear that Santana had legitimately checked her out a few times.

And it wasn't like Santana wasn't attractive as well. After her junior year, Rachel had become aware that she could have interest in other girls. She just wasn't certain she could have romantic affiliation with them, and certainly wasn't sure that it would have been worth risking her potentially new-found friendship with Santana. So she hadn't tried back then, and she wasn't sure if she could risk their second attempt at friendship so soon.

Her test the previous night, seeing if Santana would sleep with her, was a major success in her books. It meant that, after all those years, Santana was still comfortable with her on that level, which was promising. Rachel just wasn't sure if they could be anything more than slightly intimate friends. Not that she felt they needed to be, but Rachel was really lonely, and she liked Santana. She'd come to terms with really liking Santana, and giving love a chance again, no matter where she found it. And honestly, she really, really wanted to find it with Santana. Rachel just felt that with the other woman, her luck could change.

Rachel also couldn't help but feel that they still knew each other extraordinarily well, despite the years between them, which only added more intrigue, she felt. And the mere thought of Santana stripping or dancing, or whatever she did at that club, incited more than a little arousal and jealousy. _I suppose I should consider that more thoroughly…I should make proper time to really be sure of my emotions before I commit, but…at the same time, I already really want to ask her to move in with me, and help me find a new place for us to live. Is that too stereotypically lesbian of me? Because I'm not a lesbian, but I know the U-Haul jokes, and I know she'd totally call me on it, and it's frustrating when I live up to such base humour. Besides, if she's having financial issues, it would help her save on rent, meaning she wouldn't have to work at that club, and I wouldn't feel jealous. But then I'd have to…_

Her thoughts were suddenly disrupted by a pair of arms squeezing her gently, the taller woman's cheek nuzzling her own as she was pulled further against Santana's warm, soft body. "Shhh…less thinkin', more sleepin'."

Rachel stifled a giggle and decided to concede to the woman's demands, closing her eyes and letting her body drift closer to sleep. Which, honestly, wasn't difficult considering whose arms were holding her. There would be time for thinking later. For now, she'd enjoy the moment.


	5. Chapter 5

Santana woke with a smile on her face, feeling warm, comfy, relaxed and really well rested. But best of all was the smile. Life hadn't been easy across the past years, and waking up with her body feeling so content that it had a smile on her face was foreign. It felt like she'd just reached an oasis after months in the desert, that she had found light after years spent in darkness. Santana really didn't want to be dramatic about it at all, but the fact was that smiling just hadn't been a natural response that she'd felt in a long time. At least, not until she saw Rachel the previous day.

It was also wonderfully nostalgic, waking up to a face full of hair, her nose embedded in Rachel's long, wavy brown locks. To passersby, it probably looked entirely strange and uncomfortable, but she kind of enjoyed the unorthodox position they routinely had found themselves in. It made Santana's memory flash back to all the times she'd been forced to watch Funny Girl, or at least she endured it for the diva's sake. After a while it had become Rachel's sad day movie, and that meant supporting the diva as much as she could. And if that allowed her to pretend to doze off in the middle of the film, so be it.

Because honestly, it was a playful reaction. Initially, she'd pretended to fall asleep to try and raise the diva's ire, but Rachel had simply snuggled closer. Which, honestly, had been kind of awesome; she'd more or less just get to hold Rachel and straight up fall asleep, which allowed her a heck of a lot of quality beauty sleep. It quickly became their Funny Girl routine, probably her favourite routine while she lived at the apartment. Even when, every time, she'd wake up with a face full of hair and Rachel laying on her back, on top of Santana, clutching her hands and holding them around the diva's waist securely.

It was something of a guilty pleasure; Santana knew Rachel was straight, and that she obviously couldn't try anything, but that sort of friendly intimacy was kind of wonderful. So waking up in the airport, she couldn't help but be both unsurprised and amused that they found themselves in the same position. Sure, Santana had always wondered how Rachel never got a crick in her neck, considering the girl's head always rested on Santana's chin or collarbone, or neck, instead of her much softer and more cushiony breasts. Then again, Rachel had always been a little quirky.

So Santana lay there, enjoying the feeling, knowing she likely wouldn't wake up like that again in her life. It wasn't long until she felt Rachel's breathing change, the diva moving around on top of her a little bit, seemingly trying to get comfier. Santana took the opportunity to plant an innocent kiss to the girl's temple before slipping out from under the diva as quickly and gently as possible, hoping it would make the waking process easier on Rachel. Instead, the diva stubbornly reached out for her, Santana almost grazed by the girl's lazily flailing fingers. It seemed that Rachel wasn't quite ready to get up, despite their ample sleep. It wasn't entirely uncommon for Santana to see Rachel wake past six in the morning; over time, the girl tended to gravitate toward waking closer to seven, like sane human beings. And sometimes, after a long night of dancing, drinking, rehearsing or other activities, the diva would sleep in.

Santana blushed at the giggle that escaped her lips at the sight of Rachel's petulant pout; the diva was still blindly reaching for her, and seemingly getting more upset the longer she went without contact. One part of her mind was screaming at her to just go back and let her latch onto her again like a parasite, but the other knew that Rachel would be grumpy without breakfast, and would be flustered if she was delivered breakfast before she was done her morning routine, and Santana was just plain hungry. She checked her phone, seeing it was just shy of seven, further confirming her decision that it was time to wake up. Though Rachel, again, didn't seem convinced as she curled up into the fetal position under the blankets, frown marring her features. Rachel clearly wasn't satisfied with something, though Santana was sure the blankets were still warm enough.

She leaned over the other woman, deciding to take the initiative. "Rachel, it's time to wake up." She whispered, but found herself almost immediately wrangled and pulled down onto Rachel greedily as soon as the words spilled from her mouth.

Santana couldn't really make much sense of Rachel's stream of half-conscious gibberish, but she was pretty sure the words 'cold' and 'sleepy' were used multiple times. She entertained the diva and let Rachel reposition them until their bodies were pressed against each other, Santana on top of the blankets, and Rachel beneath them. She felt the smaller woman give a light squeeze in apparent thanks, and she wasn't about to complain. She liked relaxing with Rachel. She liked how affectionate the diva was, it made her feel a little warm and fuzzy inside. But she couldn't help but laugh a little at her insistence on sleeping longer. Sure, it was wonderful, but it couldn't last forever, and she was just sparing them the extra disappointment. "Jeez, Rach, whatever happened to your rigorous six A.M. morning routine?" she asked, chuckling at the fact that for once, she was the one wanting to leave the bed. Of course, the bed was uncomfortable, aside from Rachel's part in it.

She felt a trademark Rachel Berry huff against her cheek. "Mmmtired of it. Santana snuggles are better." The diva mumbled, sounding entirely frustrated that she even had to answer that question. As if it were obvious.

"I have no doubt about that." She noted amusedly, using a free hand to muss up Rachel's hair. "I knew you were just using me for my cuddles." Her strategy was to annoy and surprise the diva into wakefulness. She knew Rachel hated people messing up her hair unless they were doing something nice like running their fingers through it.

This time, it was Rachel's turn to giggle, the melodic sound spilling from Berry's mouth. "I can't believe Santana Lopez just admitted to cuddling." Rachel noted in disbelief, her voice thick with sleep despite her apparent grasp on the situation.

Santana decided to put her past insecurities aside, or at least some of her lingering high-school ones that Rachel had helped her combat in the time they lived together. "Well, there WAS a reason why I fell asleep at practically the same time every time we watched Funny Girl together."

It only took a few seconds for her words to sink in, and then Santana was knocked off of Rachel, the diva sitting up appearing entirely startled, shocked and perhaps slightly flattered. Santana watched at the other woman's eyes grew wide, a lithe finger pointing accusingly at her. "You…you snuggle baited me!" the diva yelled out, clearly shaken by the revelation that had just taken place.

It was too funny a reaction not to laugh. Because really, Rachel looked so utterly scandalized and her face was ridiculously red. It had been a long time since she'd seen that expression, and it was just nice to be able to cause that reaction once more. "I figured that would get you awake. Don't worry, though…I spoke only the truth, I'll only ever bait you with snuggles."

Santana didn't think it was possible, but Rachel's face only grew redder, the colour seeping down her neck, even. She figured she'd embarrassed the diva's relatively prudish sensibilities, so she backed off, deciding not to mention how her face resembled the paint job of a fire-truck. "You have a specific place in mind for breakfast?" she asked, after a few moments of silence, Rachel merely staring at her wide-eyed and still.

The diva let out a sigh and groaned, flopping back down onto their makeshift bed. "Staying in bed's out of the question?" Rachel asked weakly, and Santana had to fight from just going along with it. The other woman didn't look ridiculously sleep deprived, but she'd heard that Rachel had been having difficulties. If Rachel had gotten a good night's sleep for the first time in a long time, she'd do her best to ensure that she would be able to milk it for all it was worth.

"If by bed, you mean the hard marble floor as our box-spring, our coats as the mattress, and those two blankets as our sheets?" Santana asked speculatively, Rachel nodding shyly, hiding most of her face away against the pillow. She could only shake her head at the reaction, wishing she could sleep more, but her stomach was rumbling fiercely. "Sorry, but we really should just get up, even if it was pretty comfy in there."

Rachel let out another sad, resigned huff and started rummaging through her luggage, grabbing a moderately sized bag that Santana assumed was filled with hygiene products. Within seconds, the diva was marching off toward a nearby washroom, bag in hand.

Santana couldn't help but wonder when Rachel went from being a morning person to being a grump like herself. However, she was honestly still in too good of a mood to really seriously question it, and instead headed off to her destination.

* * *

 

Rachel stood in front of the mirror and sighed, again. She'd finished her routine ten minutes ago, and was entirely scared stiff at the prospect of going out and seeing Santana again, and Rachel couldn't help but blame herself.

There was a period in her first few months in New York that she realized that she'd have to remain a morning person despite her rigorous schedule, or just be normal like everyone else, allowing herself some extra time away from the intensity that NYADA added to her life. She'd eventually chosen the latter, and prayed constantly that no one would ever approach her when she was waking up, because a half-asleep Rachel Barbra Berry was much like drunken Rachel Barbra Berry. Entirely candid.

She cringed yet again at the vague memory of her grabbing after Santana, basically begging the taller woman to cuddle with her. She'd been absolutely, uncompromisingly pitiful, and it was difficult even considering leaving the washroom, she was so embarrassed. It was no wonder that Santana had laughed at her.

Sure, Rachel knew Santana was quite fond of affection; the girl had been starved from it by her parents, and that had left Brittany to take the responsibility during high-school. Still, though, she couldn't shake the worry that she'd made Santana tremendously uncomfortable, which seemed fairly obvious by how quickly the woman had escaped her clutches in their makeshift bed, and her insistence on the both of them waking up. It wasn't her intention to mess anything up. Rachel just didn't want that moment to end. She'd felt perfectly content just laying there with Santana, and truly didn't want to give that up until it was entirely necessary. Obviously, Santana didn't feel the same.

And it was doubtful that the delay would stretch into Christmas day, what with the snowfall easing up slightly. They'd be on their flight sometime today, and likely parting ways, unless either of them did something about it. All Rachel knew was that she absolutely couldn't handle a repeat of last time; she needed to stay friends with Santana, at the least. She didn't want to lose the woman who had once been her best friend, as strange as that sounded, given their history. Yet, she likely had already lost her, given her behavior earlier in the morning. _I just HAD to beg her to sleep longer with me…desperation's never been an attractive look on me, and Santana just couldn't WAIT to get up and away from me. It…it HURT. I just want to keep her close…I just want…well, I mean, I know I shouldn't, but I like her. I just hope that at least she'll be friendly. I don't think I could take the closed off, angry Santana from high-school. I just…I couldn't bear that._

Eventually, Rachel felt somewhat brave enough to face the music, so she willed herself out the washroom doors and into the halls of the airport, weaving her way toward their spot against their wall. For a moment, she almost felt a shred of confidence that everything would be fine, but her heart dropped at the lack of a tall, attractive, raven-haired singer-songwriter by their seemingly abandoned luggage.

And just like that, her fight and courage left her. It was almost comical how quickly Rachel found herself face-down against the pillow, feeling entirely dejected and lost. Halfheartedly she wondered if she should take out her laptop, maybe read the book she'd brought; Rachel knew that she needed to get her mind off of the fact that Santana could very well be gone, and she needed to get over that, but she didn't want to. She was too disappointed in herself and hurt to do anything but mope and weigh hypothetical options that she'd never choose in the coming hours.

It was after a short while, her mind bouncing back and forth between whether Santana would like the book she was reading, and whether she should listen to Santana's music on her laptop when Rachel felt a tap on her shoulder, immediately creating an unknown third option that was immediately far more appealing and potentially less traumatic. When she turned around and looked up, seeing a sleepy Santana, holding two delicious smelling bags, she couldn't help the bright smile that spread across her face. All thoughts in her mind were vanquished aside from _'Santana's here, and she brought food!'_

Santana shot her a quick smile before plopping down next to her in their nook, using her guitar case as a back rest. Rachel eyed the bags, and watched amused as Santana sniffed both before handing one to Rachel. "Thanks, Santana. I was wondering where you ran off to." She noted quietly with a polite nod, thoughts from the washroom infiltrating her mind once more after seeing the brevity of the smile on the other woman's face.

The same face that dropped at her words, making Rachel feel even worse, that maybe she'd said something entirely wrong. "I'm, uh…sorry if I worried you, or whatever." Santana mumbled, sneaking a peek into her bag before shutting it. "I was really hungry, and I know you don't eat before your routine, and you hate cold breakfasts."

Rachel recovered quickly, trying not to care too much that Santana had apologized to her for perhaps the fourth time in her life. It was a rare occasion. Instead, she dissected the sentences, but just couldn't understand what had gotten the other woman so upset. "It's not a problem, I was just curious."

Santana shook her head in seeming defeat, ducking it as she lowered her food bag to the ground. "No, you were worried I ran off. I just…don't know why you'd think that. Or, well…"

"I thought I made you uncomfortable…you know, earlier." Rachel stammered out, not wanting Santana to feel bad. Inexplicably, she'd forgotten how Santana had often used breakfast as her main meal of the day; it only made sense that she'd be really hungry in the mornings. She watched as Santana looked her over, to discern if she was being serious. Rachel gave a small nod and an entirely too nervous smile.

Santana grinned at her, apparently finding humour in the situation, where Rachel could only feel awkward. "No, but you were kind of hilarious." The woman stated with an impish smile that went a fair ways to scatter her worries to the wind, but Rachel needed confirmation.

"Are you sure?" she asked, really needing Santana to be honest with her. She didn't want the woman to be uncomfortable around her.

The other woman nodded and her smile only spread further. "We're cool…it was kinda nice, anyway."

Rachel, taking that as enough of a reason to calm down, finally gave into the scent that had been attempting to overpower her nose throughout the short conversation. She peeked into the bag and saw that Santana, after all the years between them, still managed to remember her favourite breakfast. It was more than a little heartwarming that such information stuck with her friend. Though, perhaps it was because Santana had always teased her, often stating firmly that no one should have lunch food for breakfast, and that to do so was immoral and unethical.

She happily took the sandwich out of the bag, rotating it in her hands to see what all was in it. Rachel smiled at the fact that it was one of her favourite combinations. Grilled Portobello mushroom, red pepper and hummus sandwiches were hard to come by in stores, and she rarely gave herself the time to make such breakfasts most days, so it was a really nice treat to have one, especially in the confines of an airport. Rachel was pretty sure that Santana had special ordered it, because on their loop around the terminal looking for restaurants, she hadn't seen anything of the sort on any menus. Rachel took a small, glorious bite and savoured the wonderful flavours before blindly reaching once more into her bag, pulling out a vegan raspberry smoothie from one of the café's she'd pointed out the previous morning.

It was only after taking a long sip of her drink that she realized there was something else in her bag, noticing the faint weight remaining in it. Curious, she took a second look into the bag, spotting a smallish white cardboard box. Feeling a tiny bit suspicious, she pulled it out and looked over the nondescript box as Santana not so subtly looked on carefully.

Slowly, she lifted the box's lid and spotted something she never thought she'd see again in her lifetime. Truly, there looked to be small differences, but in the box rested what appeared to be a vegan chocolate cupcake with raspberry frosting and a full raspberry on top. Santana had always teased her for liking the berry so much, but she never really had the energy to care, because raspberries were delicious, and that's all that mattered. She was shameless in her love for the fruit.

It looked delicious, just like the one she'd gotten before, years ago on a rare, poorly organized drunken escapade. She and Santana had gone out after Rachel had finished a large dance assignment, and they had gotten entirely too drunk, ending up trying to stumble home instead of taking a cab. The both of them had happened on a cupcake shop that had been closing up for the night, and after Santana bribed the owner with a half a mickey of Jack Daniels, they were allowed in to buy some leftovers. Santana had bought Rachel the most excitingly delicious looking cupcake the diva had ever laid eyes on, and a half dozen peanut butter cookies for herself. Even in their drunken stupor, it was clear how life-changing the cupcake was, and it was possibly the greatest disappointment that neither had managed to track down the shop since. It was as if it had been a mirage.

So Rachel was truly surprised when she sat there, staring at a replica of the cupcake that had sort of, in a small, embarrassing way, changed her life. When she finally willed her eyes away from the glorious treat, she found Santana with an entirely smug expression that she totally deserved, not having even touched her own food. "Is that proof enough that I wasn't uncomfortable, that we're okay?" the taller woman asked softly, still giving a victorious smile.

Rachel just smiled a watery smile, not so covertly lifting a free hand to wipe away her tears. She wasn't sure if they were leftover sad ones, or newfound happy ones, but it was nice to get them out anyway. She honestly wasn't exactly sure why she was feeling as emotional as she was, as overwhelmed as she was; her guess was that no one had shown they cared for her so easily in such a long time. It was something she'd dearly missed about Santana.

Sure, the other woman was abrasive at times, and certainly unpredictable, which often clashed with her schedules, lists, and general sense of structure and order. Yet, Santana always came through when she needed her. The taller girl always seemed to have a sixth sense, or a psychic Mexican third eye, for predicting moods or situations, and would often have solutions at the ready and on the fly. No matter what, Santana always found a way to make her feel better, whether it was done on purpose, guesswork, or accidentally. For instance, she'd bombed an audition early sophomore year, and she'd spent the entire subway ride home craving a bowl of soup and a 'Facts of Life' marathon. So when she'd entered their apartment and found Santana slaving over a pot of homemade vegan soup, and the living room all set up in prime movie-watching condition, it was all she could do to keep from tackling the girl in a hug. Or when she'd have a hard day in Cassie July's class, and Santana would answer the door with massage oil in hand, sympathy written across her face. It was always something new, because as predictable as Rachel liked her life to be, her needs were often random. Both Kurt and Santana had teased her that she'd make for a hellish pregnant woman; pregnancy just didn't seem like a promising stretch of life, if that aspect of her personality was only enhanced.

Santana had always kept Rachel on her toes, and she could never really know what to expect when she got home most days, but it was very rarely anything but what she needed at the time. It also helped that most times, she'd spend her subway rides wondering what Santana would have planned or prepared for when she got home, indirectly easing her school-related nerves, fears and worries.

"It…it's wonderful. Thank you." She choked out, placing the cupcake back in its box before taking another bite of her sandwich, her body melting from the sweet taste of her food, or perhaps the sweet lady across from her.

* * *

 

Santana was kind of elated that her impromptu decision to get fancy with breakfast paid off in spades. It had taken a little weaseling, a little extra time, and some extra money from the previous day's earnings, but she'd accomplished a magnificent breakfast to help continue her amazing morning. It was only when she'd approached their little camping spot that she realized something was amiss.

Honestly, she hadn't expected Rachel to be upset that she'd left, either from the bed or to get breakfast, but it was absolutely clear by the expression on her friend's face that she was sad and lonely, meaning that she missed Santana. She was just thankful that she'd defused the situation with the diva. Sure, Santana understood the woman's worries; she ran away from her problems every single time. Hell, she ran away from her friends at the first sigh of strain. Santana always held herself at fault for her and Quinn's fights; she'd always see the blonde pulling away slightly, and she'd force her away fully until the blonde proved that, once again, she wasn't about to give up on her. It was toxic, SHE was toxic, and she ended up hurting Quinn, so she'd been happy to disappear to Kentucky. And then that wasn't a big enough distance between her and Britt, and the long distance relationship wasn't working for either of them, so Bushwick it was.

But even that soured. Or, well, it didn't so much sour, as Kurt decided he was going to leave, which gave her an excuse to be distant to Rachel and enact a split. Santana wished that she hadn't given up so easily, but she'd felt validated when neither of her former roommates hunted her down. In her own way, she knew it was all about needing someone to make an effort for her, but in the past she'd never been ready to accept those efforts. She'd been too suspicious, too hurt, too hopeful. Now, as a fairly jaded twenty-something, she'd had a lot of time to think, and she knew her chances at redemption were few and far between. Santana still wasn't sure if she was ready, but it was as ready as she'd ever be. She just needed to know that Rachel would try, which was why she'd made the breakfast gesture in the first place. It wasn't really 'baiting' per se, it was just a way of figuring out if Rachel actually wanted to stay her friend in the future, or if she'd go away. If Rachel was the same girl she'd gotten attached at the hip with during their time at the Bushwick apartment, or if she had put all of that behind her. She just wanted to be wanted for once. Santana had never really been able to completely shake the feeling that it was improbable, but the closest she'd come was with Rachel, and that had freaked her out. It made her vulnerable, so she'd run away.

And sure, Santana had imposed herself on their lives and took up room in their home; while they seemed to enjoy her presence, she had known it was only a matter of time until they'd sour toward her in some way. Everything always had with her, in some way, so it wasn't like it was a bad call, just letting go like that, running away. Santana knew she'd always get emotionally invested, and she'd always need to leave before it could get bad enough to leave her with the kind of memories that she'd hate herself for.

But sitting there across from the diva who was happily enjoying her cupcake, flashing her a brilliant smile, Santana really wished she hadn't run. That she'd just thought harder, waited longer, because it was so clear that Rachel missed her. She didn't have to run. It was her first mistake.

And while that was kind of mind-blowing in its own pathetic little way, it was also a first. And Santana wasn't sure how to handle that potential reality.

What she did know how to do was handle Rachel. The cupcake had made Rachel smile the same smile the diva made after winning regions with her original song. Santana liked that smile, and felt pride over causing it. And it was kind of really easy, because even after six years apart, she still knew Rachel. At least, enough to get her mind to a happier place. She couldn't help but think that they could have stayed as friends. That they could have met up each week and hung out, or whatever. Sure, Rachel was a bit of a head case and overbearing, but it wouldn't have been hard, because she knew Rachel's crazy. She accepted it. She even liked it sometimes. Maybe most of the time, even. _How could I not have been able to handle all that? Rachel's like, the most forgiving person in the world…it'd be hard to mess up with her, right? And she's not stupid…she gets me, so she'd stop me from hurting her like she used to. We could have had a friendship. She…we could have been friends for years! Right? She would have been able to keep her focus if I wasn't around all the time, right?_ She mused to herself, finishing off her own breakfast pita. _I've already lost, like, everything but my guitar and my hellhole of an apartment…my cousin's the only person willing to talk to me anymore, and after yesterday morning, that could have changed, or it might not last long. Isn't it worth trying to hold on? Isn't that what's been flashing in front of my face in bright, neon letters since I saw Rachel yesterday?_

Santana masked a sigh as reality sifted back into her thoughts. _But fuck, it's just hard. When we get back to New York, she might want to go her own way. And that would really hurt if I work myself into being, like, open with her and everything. I mean, it's expected that I'll get stomped on, or that I'll end up stomping on her, but…beh. It's Christmas Eve. May as well make the most of the day, instead of just sulking and shit._

She quickly went about finishing her meal, sending the diva a smile as she returned from throwing out their trash, and recycling their recyclables. Rachel sat on a pillow, scrolling through her phone, looking perfectly content. Like they weren't stuck in an airport in Canada, on Christmas Eve, camping in a low-traffic hallway. "Do you want to do any music today?" she asked cautiously, unsure if her friend was up to the task, or if she just wanted to relax.

Rachel's answer quickly was visible on her face, long before her words confirmed it. The girl was excited, quickly tossing her phone away and into her luggage. "I'd love to." The diva stated exuberantly, before pausing and giving Santana a firm, pointed look. "But only if we warm up properly this time. I won't have you damaging your vocal chords, Santana."

Santana rolled her eyes, but her growing smile betrayed her. She was excited too. Maybe just for the music, maybe for spending more time with Rachel, maybe for having another appreciative audience. But maybe, most of all, for maybe having a better day than the previous one, which was borderline unbelievable at that point.

But with Rachel Berry at her side, she wasn't sure that anything was impossible.


	6. Chapter 6

Rachel couldn't help but feel ecstatic. It was just past noon, and the both of them had been performing for nearly two and a half hours, their selections mostly from the Christmas catalogue, considering the festive date. Despite not having celebrated Christmas as a child, she'd always loved the carols and classic songs about the holiday. Additionally, living with Santana had allowed her the opportunity to live through one of the celebrations, her roommate having been surprisingly committed to the festivities. It hadn't been much, but they'd decorated a bit, adorned one of Kurt's plants with a big gold star sticker, watched some films, sang some songs, and exchanged gifts. Only one each, though, Rachel had insisted; while it was a bit surprising at the time to see Santana's reluctance, the rule had been followed.

Well, it had mostly been followed; Santana had, underneath the traditional Christmas-themed wrapping paper, double wrapped the gift in the recipe for her own Christmas cookies and butter tarts. There hadn't been a year since where she'd refrained from making them during the holiday season, and if she still had time when she got home, Rachel was pretty positive she'd have the ingredients to make them on Christmas day. She'd given Santana a stuffed elephant, because the girl had seemed to always tackle big tense issues without any regard for tact, yet it always ended up for the better. Rachel had felt kind of proud of her gift, and was certainly thrilled when Santana laughed at it and couldn't keep the smile off her face. Besides, she knew that Santana got lonely, and hoped it had helped a little some nights.

But when Rachel had opened Santana's gift and found the apparently home-made journal resting there, she'd honestly felt as if she'd miscalculated. It certainly wasn't the prettiest gift in the world; most of the pages were out of alignment a little, some larger than others, some made of different materials, some thicker than others. Yet, on every other page, there was a reminder of her past or present; sometimes quotes from herself, Mister Schuester or fellow glee club members, sometimes recaps of past events complete with Santana's little personal interpretation, and sometimes photos. Most were official, like yearbook photos, or ones that she'd approved, like the ones for holiday celebrations during club events. Others were candid, some taken by members, some by JBI, and some by complete strangers from what Rachel could guess. It was basically a big, motivational tome full of her successes, as well as the failures she'd learned from and overcome. At the time, she and Santana had just started being on pretty good terms, and that book had been a big opportunity to both get a glimpse of how Santana's mind worked, and record their growing friendship.

Rachel hadn't looked at that book in years, not since the split, but with the woman sitting beside her, both of them singing carols, she finally felt like skimming through it again. And maybe she was feeling particularly exuberant, and maybe there was a tiny minority of patrons that weren't as into the holiday music as they were, but it didn't matter at that moment. Not while they were enjoying their second Christmas together.

Heck, she'd even been able to get Santana to let her sing 'Oh Holy Night', which was obviously met with applause. Rachel had, after all, used that song for her freshman Winter Showcase, for which she'd been given a standing ovation by some of the best professors and students in music. While she'd certainly been humbled through the years, it was one of a few songs where she felt her old self shine through, where she knew she was brilliant and worthy of acclaim.

Even with the odd positive reminder of her past successes and naïve dreams, Rachel still found it all too easy to escape the acclaim and just let herself relax and be happy about spending time together with the woman beside her again. It was nice to have her 'partner in crime' back. And when they'd taken the request for 'Baby it's Cold Outside', and Santana surprisingly was willing to play the 'mouse', Rachel had let her 'wolf' out to play. It wasn't often that she'd had the freedom to be more playful than would otherwise be appropriate, and Santana had naturally slipped into the coy, flirtatious role that the crowd seemed to adore. The woman had acted out each line with gestures, facial expressions, body language and everything else that had always made Rachel believe that Santana could excel in musical theatre or acting. Rachel knew that she'd stolen the show as Maria in West Side Story during their senior year, but Santana had been impressive in her own role as Anita. The same tension from that performance returned in full during the song, and she knew that Santana felt it too. And that gave her hope.

Rachel was considering a lunch break of sorts, to give them both a well-deserved breather, but Grace scurried across the aisle and knelt by her friend's side before she could announce anything, whispering something in her friend's ear. Santana had started the morning off in a merely okay mood, but once the mother and daughter had returned to listen to them perform, the woman's mood had risen substantially. However, as she watched the two quietly converse, Santana just seemed to grow more and more confused. Deciding that she was well within her rights to eavesdrop, she leaned closer, just catching their hushed words.

"…sure you got the name right? It's not on my album." Santana whispered, her brow furrowing as Grace looked down shyly.

"It was on a club's youtube page. I was looking you up last night." The girl noted with the cutest little smile; it was clear to Rachel that as much as Grace seemed to like her voice, the girl was quite charmed by Santana.

The woman in question fell into her usual tick, nervously rubbing her arm , looking adorably uncertain. Rachel couldn't help but wonder what the girl had dug up from her friend's live shows, and couldn't help but be a little intrigued considering Santana's reaction. "I didn't know anyone recorded that show. There were like, maybe fifteen people there." The woman stated, sounding a little reluctant, but it seemed like the girl knew Santana's weakness and tossed out a brilliant pout that pretty much seemed to make up her friend's mind for her. "Jeez, okay, alright? Put that lower lip away before you kill someone. I just…I gotta remember how to play it. That was the only time outside of twice in my room that I ever actually performed it, so…yeah."

Rachel's eyes grew wide at the admission, Grace's following suit as well; she had heard from Santana that she had a lot of unrecorded songs laying around, and considering the short length of open-mic gigs, she figured Santana would have only been pushing the material from her album. It was exciting to hear something relatively new.

"So, uh…I never really knew what to do with this one. It was the first song I ever wrote, so maybe you'll enjoy it? Just a heads up if you decide to toss fruit and veggies at me in protest…I'm hungry, so I'll probably be cool with it. If you really want to torment me, request Barbra Streisand songs." Santana started off as she finished tuning her guitar. She caught the woman's sly little wink after the Barbra reference; while she certainly hadn't appreciated the assertion that Barbra was torturous to endure, she knew that Santana would have worked through the songs happily anyway, so she offered a smile in return.

The song sounded immediately similar to the tone of the album, which she hadn't been expecting, if she were to be honest. She'd expected some sort of vocal showcase song, or some unorganized half-developed bluesy song, but the slow guitar-work kind of did away with that prediction.

"In a moment, I could be gone. In a moment, you could be gone too. Here is to now." Santana sang, her bluesy voice clear and soulful as ever. The woman's eyes were closed, but even though she couldn't see it in her dark brown orbs, her body was showing just how vulnerable that song made her. It was entrancing how the woman seemed to just flip this internal switch, exuding a passion that she hadn't seen through their performances thus far. "The light hits your face shining gold. Air like a blanket, protect this dream… that I want to leave. 'Cause it's about something…finally feeling right. We're making something out of nothing when we're waiting on the sun to rise."

Rachel cocked her head to the side, taking in the woman's words; she'd always enjoyed lyrics when they were literal and descriptive, as she felt it made music easier to connect with, but sometimes she was good with slightly more abstract work. _Though I'm not sure she's really hiding much there…she said it was her first song, right? I wonder when she wrote it…_ she mused as Santana finger-picked away, clearly about to start the next verse, unless her friend had eschewed all structure in her first song, which Rachel imagined would have been a good reason to keep the song hidden away. _The first bit just makes perfect sense…Santana's always lived for the present, and she's always been something of a flight-risk…but what dream is she thinking about exactly? And why would she want to protect it when she wants to leave it? When it's 'feeling right'?_

"You left me guessing what you want. Careful calculations keep us riding in the wind. Just let me go." Santana continued as she transitioned into strumming, Rachel picking up clues where she can. _Did she meet someone after the split? Maybe they were getting along, but the other person wouldn't commit to her? I know Santana, she dances around a lot of things in her own way, so maybe this other person did too, and she couldn't take it? I'm not sure…_

"These kind gestures, they tug and they pull me. And if I leave you on a pedestal, I could end all that I know… but I'm still holding on." Rachel could hear the potency of the conflict in the woman's voice, Santana having clearly thought highly of whoever she was singing about. She was still confused as to what it all meant, but on a basic level, it seemed like she was getting along with someone she really liked, and felt like she had to leave because either something would go wrong, or that things would only be good for so long. Which seemed to make sense, considering how evasive Santana had always been, but the finer details eluded her. " 'Cause it's about something…finally feeling right. We're making something out of nothing when we're waiting on the sun to rise. It's about something…finally feeling right. We're making something out of nothing when we're waiting on the sun to rise."

Rachel and Grace gave the woman light applause, which she felt was a little more appropriate than anything boisterous, given how shy and hesitant Santana had been about playing the song. However, even she stilled for a moment when other members of their audience started clapping; her eyes quickly darted to her friend, whose eyes were still closed tightly, her teeth worrying her bottom lip as she repeatedly nodded ever so slightly. Rachel had questions, but figured they'd best be served for a later time; she wanted to take advantage of that momentum.

"San, that was wonderful. Do you have any other unpublished material you could play? Everyone seemed to really like it." She noted quietly with slightly restrained enthusiasm. Rachel didn't want to push Santana into any decision or anything, after all, but she did think that since some were still clapping, there was definitely room for plugging her material.

"I'm not sure, it…a lot of it's a bit personal, you know?" Santana whispered shyly, her eyes pleading for Rachel to understand, but it was a difficult task, all things considered. Rachel had been a student of music all of her life, and if there was one word that she felt described it, it was passion, and that could only come from individual, personal experiences.

"That's what music's for, though. I'm sure others would love to hear more of your passionate creations if they're anything like the last one…people relate to passion, San." Rachel stated, hoping that the woman would stop digging in her heels and just let the small moment of success lead the way, even if just for a little while.

Santana's face scrunched up a little before she offered a small shrug. "I'll consider it, okay? They probably just want more carols now." she remarked quietly before looking out at the crowd. "Thanks for that, really. You've all been so awesome during our time here, and I really appreciate it. If, uh…anyone wants to make any requests, we can start that up again, or if you've been digging the festive feel we can keep on with the carols."

"You could do the song you've been working on?" Rachel blurted out, immediately regretting it, because she knew that the woman wasn't likely ready for that step quite yet, given that the song was in its infancy.

Santana though, instead of looking upset or hesitant, just laughed. "Rach, it's not exactly child friendly." Her friend said, nodding to Grace and the girl's seemingly appreciative mother. Despite the absolutely sound rationale, she couldn't help but pout a little, feeling a little desperate to hear those words put to music. "Ugh, fine…but all I can commit to is a 'maybe', and only when we're back in New York. If you're nice, I'll give you a private show, and if you annoy me too much I'll make you wait for my next gig."

Rachel nodded excitedly, pleased with either option that Santana laid out. Sure, she was impatient, and would likely continue to pry before the end of the night, but right then, Rachel was satisfied with knowing that she'd hear it sooner than later.

"What was the name of that song? Is it original? I didn't recognize it, and it's not coming up on any of the lyrics sites I've searched." One man stated from the front of the crowd, phone in hand as he determinedly tapped away on the device, his eyes flickering between it and Santana. Her friend nodded slowly, not likely accustomed to her audience growing after singing one of her own songs.

"Yeah, it's not on any of my albums or anything, so you wouldn't find it anywhere. I think I named it 'Waiting for the Sun to Rise', though. It's been a few years since I last played it." Santana explained with a smile, earning a nod from the man.

"Cool. If you're taking requests, could you do another original?" The question seemed to catch Santana entirely off guard, leaving her gaping at the man, who looked on expectantly, some others nodding in agreement nearby. It took physical prodding and poking from both Rachel and her partner-in-crime Grace to get the woman out of her stupor.

Santana gave a slow nod, allowing herself an uncertain nervous smile before she looked at Rachel with a face that clearly displayed her panic, as if she were asking her what to do. Rachel took the woman's hand and gave it a squeeze. "They want an encore, Santana." She whispered almost silently, her friend's eyes widening at the realization. Before more panic set in, she tugged on Santana's arm, regaining her full attention. "You were born for this."

Her friend nodded and picked up her guitar again, turning back to face the audience. "Sure…I can do that, yeah. I'm seeing a lot of people here around my age…and I'm pretty sure most of you weren't really told how to grow up, or what it'd be like. I wrote this one because sometimes we end up in places we didn't expect to be, places we didn't really want to be, places that might have changed us, but…all you can do is just keep moving until you find somewhere that feels right. Kind of fitting that I'm playing this in an airport, with planes set to travel around the world, so…well…here's to finding our way. And to all you lucky folk who have, cherish the heck out of it." Santana rambled softly, clearly nervous but the woman seemed to gain a few shreds of confidence after her little spiel. "This one's called 'Lost Coastlines'."

Rachel couldn't help but agree, having decided on her own destination already, hoping it would make for a great fit. She just needed Santana to see things her way, but as time passed, her doubts and worries over that subject began dissipating. With the snowfall fading outside, it was only a matter of time before they'd be heading home. Rachel just hoped that she'd find the courage to do something before then.

* * *

 

Hours later, Santana was still kind of basking in her moment of glory. She'd ended up performing four original songs before bringing the focus back to carols and other cover songs, so that Rachel could be included. She'd had a surprising amount of fun; gigs hadn't been exciting or easy in a long time, and it was nice to get some positive feedback for the first time in a very, very long time. Santana also hadn't missed the fact that a few of the people in the crowd had been recording most of their performances, which was kind of flattering. Sure, she knew most were when Rachel was doing her thing and putting on a vocal clinic, but some of the performances that she'd lead had been recorded as well, which made for a bit of an ego boost. Hearing people compliment her original music was just icing on the proverbial cake. In that mindset, in that environment, she could have sung for forever, but at seven eighteen in the evening, she received a notice that her flight would be boarding at eight-thirty.

It was a strange experience, reading that text; she'd grown to enjoy their little nook, as well as their little performance set-up, and while she was excited at the prospect of not being trapped anymore, she didn't particularly want to leave yet. Especially considering the fact that she was at a fairly nice restaurant in the confines of the airport, sitting across from Rachel. It was especially weird that they'd been trapped since the previous morning, yet it barely felt like any time had passed.

They'd thanked everyone shortly after receiving the alert, giving a little extra attention to Grace and her mother for their support; the both of them had exchanged contact info with the family. Santana knew Rachel did so mostly because Santana offered her own, but she really did want the best for the girl. Call it selfish and self-centred, but she saw her own dreams in that girl, and wanted them to come true for her if that was what Grace aspired toward. She'd been through so many trials and knew enough about the business of music to give some pointers. And she knew that Rachel could provide some tips of vocal practices if need be.

The pair had left the crowd and made their way to grab some food before take-off, not having eaten anything more than breakfast that day, something Rachel had harped on about through much of the afternoon. Santana didn't see the girl running off to get food or anything, so she figured that them playing music simply won out as the diva's top priority, which was pretty cool, considering Rachel loved her routines and schedules. It WAS nice, though, to finally grab food and enjoy that last hour with her old roommate, especially someone as special as Rachel. It didn't hurt that she also had a delicious hot chocolate, a Portobello burger, and some tasty mashed potatoes on the plate in front of her. Sure, Santana kind of really wanted a real hamburger, or a pulled pork sandwich, or even the grilled pacific salmon, but she knew it could irk Rachel's gentle vegan heart; her meal was pretty alright anyway, even if there were tastier options. The hot chocolate helped make up for it, at least. That, and watching Rachel happily mow down her weird vegan pasta and a glass of red wine; she'd almost forgotten how the girl could just magically eat a full plate of food quicker than nearly anyone she'd ever known.

"So what do you have lined up in New York when you get back?" Santana asked, curious as to the diva's plan of action; she knew Rachel always set up plans, contingency plans, lists, PowerPoint presentations, and more whenever it came to her dreams or her career. Well, she wanted to see if that part of the Rachel she knew was still around, as the diva had certainly altered her behavior to a degree since they'd lived together.

"Currently, I don't have any concrete prospects for stage work, but I do have my regular night-club gigs, and I can ride the 'Mamma Mia!' money for a while until I find something else, or my agent does. I'm sure that I could find something in Brooklyn to do, but I'd prefer getting back across the bridge to Manhattan again. Even more pressing, I need to find a new apartment." Rachel rambled, her traditional 'Berry intensity' returning as she detailed the issues in her life. Apartment hunting seemed like a pretty easy thing, though, considering the rental market in New York at the moment.

"What , noisy neighbours? Drug dealing landlords?" Santana asked, knowing full well how bad some neighbours could be. Her current one was an elderly lady, but before her there was a drug dealer and his junkie friend, and the amount of shouting, window breaking and chaos had often kept her up over the months.

Rachel shook her head as she grimaced. "I haven't been that unfortunate, but my landlord is selling the property off, so we've all been evicted and need to be out in a few weeks. It's probably quite illegal to give such short notice, but I don't have the funds to get into a court battle, and I'm sure I'll find something else soon enough."

"If you're absolutely desperate…" Santana started before she even realized what she was saying, and once the words were out in the open, she didn't have the heart or guts to take any of it back. "You can stay at my place. I have room, kind of. It's not nice, it's in a shitty neighbourhood, and probably really far from any work you'll get, but it'd be a roof over your head. I wouldn't mind."

The diva smiled warmly at her, and she couldn't fight off the growing swarm of butterflies in her gut if she tried. Santana knew that the woman wouldn't take her up on her offer, but it certainly wasn't an idea that she was opposed to. The idea of living with Berry again was kind of wonderful, if she were to be honest. "I'll consider it. What plans do you have for your return to the city?" Rachel asked, looking entirely interested, which was a bit weird, because anyone with a clue would have known she didn't have much going on.

"Well…I'm pretty predictable. I'll go to sleep, wake up, have breakfast…watch Muppet Family Christmas and The Muppets' Christmas Carol, and…hrm…maybe get dressed and go to Central Park for a walk if I'm feeling it. If not, I'll just stay home and relax or whatever." She noted, struggling to find anything remotely interesting in her plans, clearly failing if Rachel's laughter was any indication.

"Santana, I meant for, you know, the weeks ahead…you know with your jobs, your music, your personal life and everything?" Rachel clarified, and she couldn't help but gulp back her nerves know that no answer would satisfy the woman across from her. She'd been in that exact position in the past, and Rachel and Kurt had lambasted her with criticism over her ambition and her decision-making about chasing her dreams.

She gave a shrug that Berry just rolled her eyes over. Deciding to feed the interrogator across from her before she found herself on some torture rack, she continued. "Hey, look, I don't usually plan that far ahead, unless I'm booking time at bars or whatever. I don't have a lot to really commit to."

Rachel tapped at her chin thoughtfully, her gaze momentarily fixated on some ceiling tile far off behind Santana, before the woman's eyes turned down to meet hers. "Maybe, since we both have open schedules, I could help you work on your next album? It would fill both of our schedules a little, give us both something to look forward to and plan, and it'd probably be fun." The diva noted with barely restrained excitement, clearly very set on helping.

She let out a sigh, knowing that even if she had hated the idea, she'd never, ever get out of it if she wanted to. Not with Rachel looking at her the way she was, so she felt a little fortunate that it didn't sound bad at all. "It'll probably end in homicide if you criticize me or my methods too much. The cops don't really patrol in my area, and the neighbourhood doesn't tend to talk so…fair warning." She replied, unable to keep hold of her smirk as Rachel started to pale. "Can you promise you won't try and railroad me?"

"The way you've done your album isn't the way I would have done one for my own work, perhaps, but I'm just more interested in learning about the process of making one, of seeing you in your element. As it is your creative work, I would only provide perspective or constructive criticism, and would try to remain as unbiased as possible. Though I can't promise I won't give tips on breath control through songs…it sort of just happens." Rachel rambled enthusiastically, looking entirely hopeful that she'd agree to the idea. Again, it wasn't as if Santana was utterly opposed to the idea, because Rachel knew music theory much better than she did. And it was kind of endearing to think that the woman would want to take part in all of that work.

"I'm not saying no…but I'm not saying yes just yet. It could be fun to have another person to bounce ideas off of, though." Santana's answer seemed to please Rachel, who erupted into excited clapping and her trademark brilliant smile. Of course the girl didn't see any of the confused looks or the annoyed glares from people around them, and Santana was happy about that; she didn't want Berry's mood to be ruined, and she didn't want to be kicked out of YYZ for assaulting anyone.

Once Rachel calmed down enough to drink her wine and speak again, it was nearly a minute later, and Santana had quickly finished off her meal. "So…what studio do you think you'll record at this time around? I'm sure I have friends from NYADA who could help you get into some of the studios in the city."

Santana froze at the question, forgetting that despite her friend's knowledge of music theory, she hadn't really been a part of the music industry yet. "I have some equipment at home that I use in my bedroom or living room…sometimes the bathroom depending on what I'm trying for. I just make do with what I've got." She answered with a shrug to a gobsmacked Rachel Berry, who was gaping at her in return, the gears in her head clearly still spinning. The woman seemed so stupefied that she didn't notice her phone beeping in the bag slung on the edge of the chair she was sitting on

"Wait…wait...you recorded your music in your home? But…wouldn't there be a lot of ambient noise? Residential rooms aren't usually adequate environments for good acoustics." Rachel sputtered out, looking and sounding entirely like Santana had spouted gibberish, and it was her job to decipher it.

"All true, which is why I usually need a lot of takes, and I have to take precautions to reduce as much white noise as possible. Cleaning all that up is hell, really, so I try to avoid it. I don't have the money for studio time, and if I did, I'd spend it on better equipment instead, or whatever." She clarified, drawing a hesitant nod from her friend, though she could tell that Rachel was still skeptical. "Besides, my recordings would be demos I'd pitch to labels, right? And if they bite, I get studio time to re-record the material and do clean versions of it all. And if I got THAT, I'd definitely bring you in to supervise and see how things go."

That seemed to appease the woman, who was back to her excited, nearly-hyperventilating-with-enthusiasm self. "That would be wonderful, Santana! I'm sure your next album will be picked up, I feel it in my bones. I… I just had no idea that people could record at home so effectively…I could hardly tell yours had been, though it was admittedly a bit grainy in spots." And just like that, Rachel had flipped into her critic persona, and she needed to defuse that, and let the diva know that there were limitations to critique.

"The sound was purposefully a little low-fi, it helped with the tone of the album and gave the songs a bit of a consistent layer that I thought helped give more focus to the melodies and vocals. And seeing as I couldn't do crystal clear production, it was the right call…remember that Bob Dylan never had the best voice, but his songwriting spoke for itself. I'm not writing a lot of radio pop, so 'imperfections' in production can be good, depending." She explained, drawing an eager and accepting response from the diva.

"I'm well versed in the history of western pop music and the traditions of its music industry, Santana. Or, well, I'm at least acquainted with the material." Rachel noted cheerfully, finishing off her glass of wine ad ignoring yet another beep of her phone. Santana decided not to mention that, as there had to be a decent reason to ignore something like that.

"Good to know, I was just making sure you wouldn't expect things out my production that didn't fit. And…well…thanks for being confident and all, but I'd rather not jinx anything. I've been trying for years to get noticed." Santana noted shyly, memories of all the days and night spent waiting for a phone call of email returning to her.

Rachel reached a hand across the table, which Santana took without much thought, as she was pretty sure it'd both feel nice and appease the diva. "Santana, if you put some of the material you've hidden away on an album, ones that really channel your passion, I'm certain people will take notice. People HAVE taken notice today, and if anything, the audience grew during your original work." Rachel stated confidently, and while Santana hadn't really paid that much attention, she couldn't really put much stock into the diva's words. At least, not about the audience, because she'd never really had interested audiences. There would generally be one or two people who would get into her material, but most others would look on and just sit there without reacting. Santana found it hard to believe more people came around to listen then, and found it more likely that the growth happened when they'd shifted back to carols. "Oh, and have you considered adding band-mates to your performances? You said that you've been venturing into rock, and usually that means people playing numerous instruments, and you only have so many limbs."

Santana laughed at the thought of playing five instruments on her own. She'd more or less committed to the thought of using some drum machines and perhaps her computer to layer in the soundstage. Expanding into a band hadn't really crossed her mind. "Well, I…um, well, it'd be worth it maybe if I could find anyone worthwhile, and if I had enough music that needed the help, you know? I mean, I could go solo if I needed to."

"Why don't I put out some feelers at NYADA? I'm sure you'd have your pick of ambitious creative musicians." Rachel noted thoughtfully, and it was a potentially good idea. The school was full of competent people, so long as they weren't pretentious nightmares. Juilliard was another option, likely; not that she'd go there first and risk Rachel berating her about alumni loyalty.

"Well, you don't have to do that for me, but if you do, I wouldn't be opposed. Thanks…it could help me out." Santana added with an encouraging smile, deciding that Rachel had certainly been trying to be really helpful and supportive, and that was worthy of thanks.

"It's no problem, Santana, that's what friends are for." Rachel stated with another megawatt smile, waving for the waitress to come by and hand them their bills, what with departure quickly approaching. Rachel's phone beeped again for a third time when Rachel was busy tipping the waitress, and Santana took the hint that it couldn't have been a big deal. Santana knew that she'd only been so focused on it because she rarely ever was called, and she'd always wanted to hear back from labels about her demos she'd drop off with reps or receptionists. "Hey Santana, may I ask a quick question?"

She looked over at the diva curiously, not knowing why Rachel even asked. Santana figured that it was well established that Rachel could never keep her curiosity in check, and thus would ask questions that Santana could choose to answer. The questions themselves were just expected. "Yeah, sure. Shoot, or whatever."

"How long have you been writing music? I'm just curious because if I'm going to help you put together an album, I'm going to need an initial scope on how many years of unreleased material you have laying around." Rachel asked, though Santana couldn't help but think that the question was a bit oddly worded. Then again, Berry had just downed two glasses of wine, and that generally meant the diva's grammar would take a pretty serious hit.

"I mean, I started about a week after you convinced me to start. I didn't write much for the first month or two…maybe three songs? Since then I've done more…I might have close to eighty songs sitting around. Most of them are done, but a few are unfinished. I guess you're going to put together a big spreadsheet or something, aren't you?" Santana shot back with a sly grin, putting Rachel on her heels a little for some reason. But again, a buzzed Berry was a largely unpredictable, fidgety person, so she just figured it was the booze controlling her like a marionette. It was a bit of a weird end to their last get-together for the night, but all in all, she'd had a great time.

As the both of them walked off toward the customs checkpoint again, she couldn't help but hope that their friendship endured. That Rachel wouldn't forget her, because even if she never had anything more from the woman, her friendship would be more than welcome; their brief time together had been like someone breathing life back into her, and Santana really didn't want that feeling to end. And for once, she didn't know if she had the heart or will to run anymore.

* * *

 

Rachel was incredibly thankful for many things that had occurred across the past forty or so hours, but the fact that the gentleman who'd reserved the seat beside Santana didn't show was a big one. Ever since the alert came up on her phone about the new departure time, she'd been trying her best to work up the confidence to do what she'd been planning out since that morning after breakfast. Only recently had she needed to shut her phone off in order to finalize preparation, the incessant buzzing a clear distraction placed between herself and her goal.

The knowledge she'd gained across the day had been absolutely pivotal in the evolution of her plan. It had been one thing to use the performance of unreleased material to get herself an in with the production of the woman's next album, which was something Rachel was genuinely excited for. It was an entirely different, colossally important thing to hear that Santana had finished some of her own material during the final four months of her stay in Bushwick; meaning, of course, that the song Grace had Santana sing had been done in that apartment. Rachel hadn't been one for wishful thinking for a long time, but she content of the song had really made her believe that perhaps it had been about her. That Santana had been singing about her. That what they were growing felt right.

In retrospect, it made sense. They'd both grown together over their time living with each other, to the point where they'd both seek each other out in nearly every situation. Hearing that Santana had actually meant to cuddle with her during Funny Girl had warmed her heart, initially, but it quickly had her wondering what other things the woman could have done secretly to get more of Rachel's attention or affection. It wasn't too difficult to deduce that perhaps the reason why Santana was always heading into the shower when Rachel got home was an excuse for the woman to show off her glistening body, often opting for night clothes that exposed a rather large amount of skin, no matter the season or weather. The voluntary foot and leg massages after her dance classes with Cassie July were a hazy memory, but if she recalled correctly, Santana had been rather willing most times. Or how sometimes when Santana came home drunk, she'd slip into Rachel's bed, which she'd chalked up as drunken confusion; even despite the fact that she'd end up latched onto Santana, not the other way around, it seemed as if it could have been purposeful instead of a case of mistaken rooms.

And in the end, Rachel had balked at the feelings she'd had for Santana and had made the decision for the lease to not be renewed, leaving everyone to go their separate ways so that she didn't have to confront them. It wouldn't be a crazy stretch of the imagination for Santana to run from her as well, especially after she started the process by ending their time in Bushwick. Besides, she'd already freely admitted to doing it, albeit for different reasons.

Sure, Rachel knew there was still a chance of failure, especially in her method of delivery, because she was kind of a little drunk, fairly nervous, and more than a little desperate to keep connected to the other woman.

So when the seatbelt light shut off, Rachel immediately left her seat and sought out the one beside a bored-looking Santana. She moved so quickly that Santana barely had any time to react before she plopped down beside her, raised the armrest, and leaned up against the woman. Sure, she knew she was a bit clingy at the moment, she always was when she was tipsy or drunk; she just hoped that her forwardness wouldn't cost her in the end. At the very least, Rachel knew that she'd at least get a bit of snuggle time with Santana, which wasn't the worst consolation prize.

To her utmost delight, Santana angled toward her slightly and pulled Rachel closely against her, the woman's arm around her waist. It was a really nice feeling. She couldn't help but wonder why she had been so scared of just going after who and what she wanted, if it was so nice and happy and cozy. "I really, really missed you." Rachel mumbled cheerfully, pleased to hear that her words weren't slurring, and that her joy over their current position was quite audible. It was important for Santana to know that she liked things. Especially when many of those things she liked were things Santana was, had and did. Rachel remembered Santana regaling her on the importance of being 'straight up', which, now that she thought of it, was a Paula Abdul song. Which, of course, had her remembering that Santana had chased Brody off with a Paula Abdul song, which in turn sent Rachel into a giggle fit.

Santana laughed, though Rachel wasn't sure if it was her laughing with her over something she'd said, or at her over her giggles. She didn't mean to giggle, it just happened. Surely Santana could understand that. "Oh yes, the ten minutes we were apart were terribly dreadful. You're such a goof, Berry." Santana noted with what Rachel decided was a moderate amount of amusement. _Her eyes are kind of sparkly, her voice that that familiar lilt to it, and there's a hint of a smirk on her lips. Definitely moderate amusement._ She mused to herself, proud of her ability to read people. Rachel remembered Mercedes and Kurt telling her that she was really imperceptive, but that couldn't be true, because Santana was moderately amused and she'd guessed right.

And seriously, for once, Santana guessed wrong. Rachel wondered if it was a special occasion, and decided to just run with that tentative explanation instead of thinking any further, because her favourite woman needed to understand, and she needed Rachel Barbra Berry's help, obviously. "No, I missed you." She clarified with a shake of her head, which she hoped would help. Words were kind of hard at the moment, and it was like a 'Where's Waldo?' game every time she tried to think up better things to say. Rachel hated those books as a child.

Santana was really suspiciously quiet for a few seconds, but Rachel was pretty sure that the woman had heard her, considering her friend had almost stopped rubbing those sweet little circles into her back, and she was pretty sure she heard someone's breathing hitch. Rachel was kind of sure it wasn't her own. And she really wanted Santana to talk, but the woman wasn't, so she decided to just continue, now that her courage had sparked her thinking abilities for a few seconds. "I didn't even know what I was missing. I tried really, really hard to make it on Broadway but I've felt so… empty."

"Empty?" Santana asked, repeating her choice of words, one that she hadn't been super confident fit what she meant to say at the time. It was hard to talk sometimes with Santana staring at her so intensely. "Like…lonely?"

Again, she shook her head against the woman's shoulder, but she supposed Santana was getting closer to her meaning, which was good. It's just that she knew Santana hated the 'hot and cold' way of telling someone if they were close, and she didn't know how else to really explain. "No, it's different. Been with men and women since we all split, and I've been lonely, but not the whole time. I missed you."

"Oh." Santana barely spoke the word, the sound coming out as more of a breath than anything, but she was close, and she heard it. And she felt Santana's forehead lean against the top of her own, which was nice. It was also nice that Santana wasn't teasing her for being so tipsy, because that used to happen all the time. _However, 'tis the season, so maybe she's just being nicer for Christmas and everything…maybe she's been on the nice list this year…_

Deciding that she just needed to be blatant, because Santana wasn't saying anything again, Rachel put effort into finding some clear strings of words. Which was hard, what with Santana touching her and everything. It was distracting. "I'm really happy I met you again in the airport. I missed you…I want you to be with me. Together." She added, hoping it would clarify everything, because she knew Santana hated people beating around the bush.

The nervous, strained laugh Santana let out quickly had Rachel frowning. She'd expected the woman to do something better, even a thumbs up or a high five would have been better than that, she figured. "You're still a total lightweight, Rach." Santana mumbled, clearly affected by her forward conversational admission, though Rachel wasn't certain how Santana was feeling. She knew Santana was at least comfy with her there in her arms, though, so that was a plus. It meant something, which Rachel hoped meant that Santana wanted her back. She just knew her friend was really bad at expressing herself, so the diva would try and be patient. It was just really, really hard sometimes.

"I'd say it sober too…I know you're probably freaking out, but you don't have to be. It's just me." Rachel spoke sweetly into Santana's neck, which was a bit softer than she remembered. It was a nice change.

"You know how I am, Rachel. You know me." Santana noted with possibly the least amount of commitment that the tired woman could muster. It certainly wasn't a defense like any the high-school Santana Lopez would have tossed up. And for once, she was kind of thankful that her friend wasn't so fierce at the moment.

"Well, you might feel like you need to run, but you don't need to do it alone. People run together all the time, San." Rachel shot back, though she knew her point would likely go over her friend's head, considering the context she was using was more in reference to people going running in a park together, or at the gym. _Perhaps it wasn't the best thing to say…_

Santana lifted her head away from Rachel's until they were a few inches apart again. "Running away is kind of a solo act…I'd know, I mastered it." The woman said with a fair bit of self-deprecation. And it truly was fair, because it wasn't a positive quality, but the fact that Santana hadn't fully shut down and run off was evidence enough that Santana might think similarly.

Now, Rachel was a patient person under normal circumstances, maybe. But with her basically asking Santana out, only to get a run-around? She was willing to pull out the big, slightly unfair weaponry. "You weren't born to run away from everything good, San, because you're not running from me right now. The fact that you stuck around these past two days and entertained a lot of people is proof that you haven't totally fucked up. And the highway doesn't always have to win. Not if you choose my off-ramp when you're feeling trapped." Rachel rambled, feeling a sense of clarity come over her; of course, with that clarity came the realization that Santana was growing tenser as she spoke, which wasn't likely a positive thing.

"You read it." Santana whispered, her words so full of emotion, and sometimes she really had a hard time differentiating shame and relief. Rachel really hoped it wasn't shame.

She separated herself further from the woman, enough to really get a good, solid look into Santana's dark, watery, hurt eyes. Rachel knew then that she'd crossed a boundary that she shouldn't have, but she saw the opportunity to fix it immediately as she cupped her friend's face. "San, you could have someone who'd care if you came home at night again. I always did, and I would again. And I'm kind of hoping you'll stay."

Her words received all of Santana's attention, the woman's gaze intense against her own. "Why?" Her friend choked out, and while she was tiring of Santana's constant questions and monosyllabic answers, she actually did feel like answering.

"I want to be the one you run to when things get too crazy or too much to handle, San." She spoke softly, slowly closing the distance between them again, feeling Santana's heart-rate spike as their chests lightly touched. "I want to be the one you escape to when you're feeling insecure. I want you to be the one who I can run to when I'm feeling like a failure, or in need of affection. We were building that before…and it felt right back then. I…I know what you meant when you wrote the last lines of your song, and I really, really wished that I'd had been brave enough to say them back then. But I am now…I'm kind of hoping you'd stay, San."

She leaned in ever closer as tears streaked down Santana's cheeks, the woman's delicious lower lip trembling all the while. Rachel decided to amend both, taking a moment to wipe the tears from those pretty, full cheeks before she leaned forward and took Santana's lips with her own.

Rachel wasn't sure of much at that moment other than how soft and incredible Santana's lips were, but by how quickly the woman reciprocated her kiss, she was pretty sure she'd finally made Santana Lopez choose 'fight' instead of 'flight'. Before running into each other, Rachel was aware that the vast majority of her efforts were spent fighting for a place in her career, and it was fairly clear that Santana had been operating similarly. It had been astonishing to feel that surge of passion again for what she loved, and she saw Santana change too, she saw the joy in her friend's eyes then. Together, Rachel had a feeling that would endure.

Santana was surprisingly restrained as they kissed, even with the light groping of her backside, which only further confirmed that Rachel knew for certain she'd fight as well for their chance. It wasn't often that she got to fight to keep someone she loved, after all. The only flight she'd allow was their current one to JFK, where they'd take a taxi to her place and start Christmas festivities. Together.

'Together' was a nice word, and an even nicer idea. It wasn't Broadway, or a big recording contract, but it wasn't worse, just different. And like any dream, she reached out for it, and felt herself well with emotion as she realized she was on her way to making it come true. And that, for a drama queen like herself, was definitely a magical happy ending worthy of a large chunk of her future memoir.

Though with Santana nibbling on her lower lip like she was, it was sort of difficult to think too much about the future. It could wait an hour and a half; right then, she had more pressing concerns and over six years to make up for.


End file.
